I Hate You
by Pearcem
Summary: Its the end of eleventh grade, and Clary is excited to be spending the summer at a beach house in Virginia. Joined by Isabelle, Alec, Magnus, and her worst nightmare, Jace, she thinks this summer will be amazing. Full of memories, and fun. But when secrets resurface, and her life is falling apart right before her own eyes, she finds herself reconsidering. IN EDITING.
1. This Summer

**Huge thanks to my wonderful beta, HeronFrayWood, who picked up my spelling errors and such. She's amazing and super sweet.**

 **So, enjoy!**

 **EDITED: DECEMBER 28TH, 2015**

* * *

Clary sat at her desk, thick curls concealing the left side of her face from Jace Herondale, someone she really, truly disliked. And for Clary—a person who liked to see the good in people, rather than the bad—and saying that she truly disliked Jace Herondale, was saying something. Waiting for last period to end was like waiting for the merciless New York sun in summer to leave for the winter—an eternity.

The clock ticked like a bomb that would never explode and set the people free. She watched the minutes tick by with bloodshot eyes, having stayed up to study for her final exam of the semester that day—which she'd scored an A minus on.

She tapped her pencil in her open notebook, as the balding teacher drawled on about something—whatever he was talking about couldn't be that important: it was the last day of school, after all.

Clary snapped out of her daze, jumping back in her hard-backed seat when a piece of abused paper, balled up, landed directly in front of her, rocking softly on her notebook page. She pressed a hand flush against her chest, where her heart was thudding furiously with bat wings, which, unlike butterfly wings, were rough and not in the least gentle or giggle-worthy.

She knew it wasn't some "gift" from Jace, but rather an note from Isabelle, when, out of her peripheral vision, she caught the raven-haired beauty snapping her head forward, paying attention to Mr. Starkweather's lecture like her life depended on it. With delicate fingers, Clary picked up the scrunched up paper, unfolding it and praying to whatever resided in heaven or hell—or whatever was true—that the paper in her hands made no noise.

 _I'm driving you home._

 _-I_

Clary felt her mouth straining as she tried to keep a straight face, facing the board at the front, where nearly illegible script was painted across the blackboard.

Her mind eventually began to wander off to thoughts of the house she'd be staying in throughout the summer, in Virginia. Sure, she had seen pictures before she and her friends had rented it, but things rarely looked as they did in pictures.

Clary could imagine swimming in the beach nearby, the breeze blowing and brushing her hair off of her bare shoulders. She could imagine drawing, drawing the lush wildlife growing wildly around the house. She could imagine drawing Izzy basking in the rich summer sun on the beach. She could imagine drawing Magnus, grinning madly at her through the barrier of glitter he typically wore.

Clary had all but swooned at her thoughts. This was going to be an amazing summer, unlike summers before, spent hiding away in her Brownstone, the only place in New York that seemed to have a functioning AC. And even then, it hadn't been cool enough.

Clary felt the sun burning her skin all over again at the thoughts; she quickly shook away the sweaty memories.

She looked around the classroom, wishing for it to be Magnus or even Alec, who she didn't talk to so often, to be sharing Mr. Starkweather's class, rather than Jace. Anyone but Jace.

The bell sounded, signalling the long-awaited end of eleventh grade.

Clary felt tears burning, felt the urge to weep at the wonderful sound.

But, she held back her tears, because no way would she allow Jace to see her so weak—or make a comment about it. She often wondered what she had ever done to him.

Clary swallowed the thoughts, shoving her notebook hastily into her bag, swinging it over her shoulder, not even bothering with the pesky zipper that was so worn it never kept the bag shut.

After what seemed like forever, Isabelle strode from the classroom, a particularly mischievous grin coating her chiselled features, and like a nasty cold, Clary caught the grin, gladly letting it crack her face in two.

"I just need to pick up my stuff—," Clary cut herself off when Isabelle held up a bossy hand, red leather purse swaying on her arm.

"Shush, I already picked it up on my free period."

And with that, the girls were off; day and night, walking side by side through a crowd that parted like running water around rocks for them—for Isabelle.

* * *

After dumping her back-breaking bag on the floor between her feet, Clary wrapped her arms around herself.

"We have many, many things to discuss, Clarissa," Isabelle warned, the engine of the three-hundred-and-something-thousand-dollar car roaring to life.

"This 'discussion' wouldn't have anything to do with what I'm going to wear, would it?" Clary cast a wary look in her friend's direction.

"Of course it does!" Isabelle exclaimed, her manicured hands gripping the steering wheel with alarming pressure.

"Well, too bad," Clary shrugged, picking at her paint-covered cuticles.

Isabelle frowned at the flooded street before her eyes. "You're no fun," she whined, turning to shoot Clary her infamous puppy dog eyes.

"What? Just because I know you want to pick out all of my clothes—and colour coat them, and plan my outfits, and everything else?" Clary asked through a breathy laugh, refusing to look to her left, at Isabelle who could make the President of the United States of America kiss the ground that she walked on, if she desired so with just one bat of her voluminous eyelashes, or just one tremble of her perfectly plump lips or even a single tear shed.

Clary looked over after a few minutes, hoping Isabelle was over her newest "amazing idea." And that was her mistake, because Isabelle still wore that look: pleading, glossy dark eyes, quivering lip, wobbling chin. "Fine!" Clary conceded, hating herself for falling for whatever charm she had.

Isabelle squealed happily.

And before long, Isabelle turned her leather-clad steering wheel sharply, jerking the car violently to the left and into a cobblestone drive. Up ahead loomed an impressive mansion, four stories tall, acres upon acres of land surrounding it and a six-car garage.

According to Isabelle's skewed history, it had once been a church, before it had been turned into the gorgeously gleaming, blindingly white mansion it was now.

The front porch stretched on narrowly for what appeared to be miles, much like the mansion itself. White scaffold pillars lined the porch, slightly blocking your view of the long front windows.

Of all the four stories, Isabelle had one completely to herself. Much unlike her year-older brother, Alec, who shared a floor with Maryse and Robert, his and Isabelle's parents.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Clary realized that she was still standing beside the car, long ago abandoned by Isabelle, who was in the process of pushing open the front door. Clary hurried on to catch up with her friend, knowing from experience that if she were too slow, Isabelle wouldn't hesitate to lock her out of the house.

"I went and got your stuff during free period," Isabelle informed her, for the second time.

"Yes, Iz, I got that the first time you told me."

"Ah—but I didn't tell you that I got your money stash, did I?"

Clary paled. "How did you know about that?" She demanded; no one knew about her wad of green crumpled and stashed in her box spring for safekeeping.

"Oh, come _on_ , Clary! That's like, one of the most common hiding places—or something. I wasn't snooping, I swear," Isabelle held up her hands in surrender.

Clary, crossing her arms over chest, nodded. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure you weren't."

"I wasn't!" Isabelle exclaimed, her voice cracking mid-sentence, a sure sign that she was lying.

"Liar," Clary muttered. "Anyways—what did you repack? My whole suitcase?"

"Don't be so literal," Isabelle said, walking through the large living room, heels clacking against the hardwood. "I only repacked the clothes that were—er—unacceptable for…public outings—yes, that's it."

"So you left my sweatpants out?" Clary deflated visibly.

"Absolutely."

"God, I hate you," Clary groaned obnoxiously, throwing her head back dramatically like Isabelle often did.

"I love you too," Isabelle called, mounting one of the staircases leading upstairs.

* * *

Clary collapsed onto Isabelle's plush bed, though the bed was covered in dog-eared magazines, makeup, clothes, heels, and for some reason, pink feather boas. Isabelle followed suit, letting out a breathy laugh, voice laced with exhaustion.

"If you don't look jaw-dropping on this trip—especially after all that work I did—we can't be friends." Isabelle stated calmly, staring up at her pink ceiling. The ceiling contrasted greatly against the black walls, painted with sloppy gold swirls, and some strange sponged-on marks.

Clary rolled her eyes, staring up at the pink ceiling as well.

"You did, however, not look like you got dressed in the dark today," Isabelle added as an afterthought.

"Gee, thanks."

Isabelle nudged her in the ribs. "Anytime, hot stuff," the raven-haired girl giggled.

Glancing down at her clothing choice, Clary realized with a start that Isabelle was rubbing off on her. And whether or not that was a good thing, the redhead wasn't sure. The green sneakers, caked with dirt and whatever else was on the New York streets, said Clary, while the yellow cardigan and dark skinny jeans screamed of Isabelle's influence. Not to mention her somewhat tame curls.

The two girls sat up abruptly, hearing the slamming of the front door.

And in the quiet of the house, the voice of Lucifer himself echoed up the stairs, bouncing around Isabelle's room: "Do you think they're here yet?"

"Did you somehow miss the bright red car parked across our driveway?" Alec said, his voice low.

And surprisingly, Isabelle who didn't typically have much of a problem with Jace, hissed in her ear that they could hide in her closet. A beat later, Isabelle pulled her from the bed with a shocked yelp.

* * *

The lights burned Clary's eyes after being subjected to utter darkness while Isabelle cursed and fumbled to find the lock on the door. And finally, when the click of the lock was heard, Isabelle flicked on the lights.

Orange light flooded the room, temporarily blinding Clary.

Covering her eyes with her cardigan-clad arm, Clary reached around blindly for Isabelle, wrapping her small hand around Izzy's shoulder. Isabelle led her around the room, shaking her off when they reached a certain point.

Opening her eyes, Clary found that Isabelle's closet had been redecorated. It looked suspiciously similar to that of Chanel Oberlin from their favourite television show: Scream Queens.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Isabelle very nearly swooned, running her hand along the edge of some hanging dresses.

Clary was about to reply, when she heard Jace's voice just outside the closet door: "Come on."

"Are you stupid? This is my sister's room; she'll skin you alive with one of her high heels if she finds you in here," Alec warned him.

"Oh, I'm shaking," Jace deadpanned.

Clary and Isabelle covered their mouths, trying—and failing—to keep in their laughter.

"Jesus effing Christ," Jace cursed, jiggling the knob on the closet door.

"You have a death wish," Alec said, trying again to warn his friend away.

"You keep talking, but I'm not listening," Jace informed him, and with a loud thud, the door creaked miserably, splintering in certain places before opening. The door hung crookedly on its hinges, squeaking horribly when Jace gruffly shoved the door open further.

Unlike Alec, Jace hung back, leaning with his arms crossed over his lean, muscled chest against the doorframe. Alec looked around the room, seemingly in a daze, while Jace simply shrugged at Clary, sending her a small grin. Almost as if he were revelling in the fact that he had found them. Suddenly, Clary felt as though she were suffering from a severe case of déjà vu. She looked down at her shoes, frowning and rubbing her temples. God, something was up with her.

She watched as Isabelle strode to stand in front of her, blocking her view of Jace, and Jace's view of hers. Almost like she was trying to protect Clary from something.

Clary, hating to feel like some weak child in need of protection, put one foot in front of the other until she was standing next to her friend.

Jace eyed her. "Can I help you, Herondale?" She spat at him furiously. She already had to spend the summer with him, and here he was wasting more of her oh so precious time.

"No, but I appreciate the offer, Clare," he replied, sarcasm coating his words.

She felt as though he had slapped her across the face. She quickly regained her composure. "Don't call me that—ever." Her green eyes closed, copper lashes fluttering as she took deep breaths, trying to calm her raging temper.

He didn't respond. It made Clary's hand twitch with anger.

"Out. _Now_." Isabelle pointed to the doorway, shooting both boys a dangerous, warning glare.

Alec's hair fell into his electric eyes. "We're leaving at six," he shouted over his shoulder, disappearing down the stairs.

"Goodbye, Jace," Clary gave him a two-fingered wave. Little did she know, behind her Isabelle was sending him a pleading, nearly desperate look. Jace nodded, and turned on his heel. Clary, slightly confused, but mostly bitter about having to spend her summer with Jace Herondale—someone who knew all the right buttons to push, and confused her beyond belief—crossed her arms like a petulant child, sinking down onto the closet floor wondering what on earth she was to do with the tawny-eyed boy this summer.

* * *

 **Hey guys! I want to once again thank my lovely beta: HeronFrayWood**

 **Go check out her stories, they're awesome.**

 **What do you guys think of the new Chapter One? Better, Worse?**

 **Review!**


	2. Car Rides and Scheming

**Hey! Huge thanks to my amazing beta: HeronFrayWood**

 **EDITED: JANUARY 20TH 2016**

* * *

Clary had never enjoyed car rides, much less long ones.

So imagine her displeasure at sitting in such a cramped space with a blabbering Isabelle for over seven hours. And the traffic wasn't helping to improve the situation, either.

Finally— _finally_ —Isabelle was pulling her supposedly smooth-riding car into a gas station. Clary groaned when they were so rudely cut off by a speeding, black Mustang. The black, glossy paint beautifully reflected the setting sun when its tires squealed to a stop against the cracking pavement, leaving burn marks.

Isabelle cursed loudly at the driver, swinging a leg out of the car, followed by the other until she was standing just barely out of said car, flipping off the driver of the car that had nearly "caused her to crash her baby."

In the middle of her rant at the stopped car, a squeaky-voiced boy came up to ask if she'd like her tank filled. Isabelle curtly said yes before continuing her rage-fuelled rant.

And surprise, surprise; out of the car stepped Jace Herondale, honey eyes hidden behind a pair of most probably expensive, top-of-the-line Ray Bands. His tawny hair was ruffled up around his head like a gruff halo. And when the sun caught said halo of hair, he practically shone as if he were the sun himself. Clary got out of the car, keeping her eyes low and away from Jace's own. Surely, it was petty, but she hated how simply perfect he looked—even with bed-head.

Isabelle was still muttering angrily to herself when she strode off to pay for the gas, leaving Clary alone with Jace just a little ways away _._

 _Thanks, Izzy_.

Out of the passenger seat stood Alec, his faded blue hoodie riddled with holes—and Clary had a gut feeling they weren't purposeful—his blue eyes shining as he smiled back down at something—some _one_ still in the car. The dark-haired boy leaned back into the car for a beat, coming out with a hand attached to his own. This and, however, was much darker than Alec's, and the nails were painted in navy blue, the polish chipped.

Out of the car came Magnus, his black hair—blue in patches from when he'd tried to dye it without bleaching out the black first—gelled into most probable once perfect spikes, flat against one side of his head. Clary guessed that was the result of him sleeping in the car—something she was never able to do, though it would probably make the car ride go by faster if she could.

Magnus leaned into Alec's neck, whispering something before he pulled away and sashayed over to where Clary leaned against the pristinely red hood of Isabelle's car.

"Oh, Biscuit!" Magnus put a hand to his forehead, throwing his head back exasperatedly—and slightly melodramatically. "You wouldn't believe it—," he began before Clary held up a hand to his slender form.

"You wouldn't believe what I would believe, Mags," Clary sighed, brushing a soft tendril of scarlet hair from her shoulder.

"Okay, well, that blonde of yours—,"

Clary cut him off sharply: "He's not _mine_." She gritted her teeth.

"Sorry—anyways, that…that— _thing_ won't shut his mouth for thirty seconds! I don't know how my Alexander can put up with his personality." Magnus turned up his nose at the idea of Alec somehow putting up with Jace.

"Me neither," Clary let out a final breath of anger, rubbing her temples, attempting to relieve an oncoming headache.

Isabelle emerged from the gas station, keys grasped tightly in her slightly clammy hand. She cocked her head curiously at the sight of her brother's eccentric boyfriend but said nothing even as she got in the car and brought the engine to life with a loud roar that quickly fell into a satisfying purr.

"Magnus is going to drive with us," Clary tried, but the thick silence remained, swiftly becoming constricting and claustrophobic. She would have thought the reason for the odd stares Isabelle and Magnus often gave each other were because of some sort or another of a romantic entanglement, if it weren't for the fact that Magnus was one-hundred percent gay.

"Whatever," Clary sighed quietly, turning her attention to the long stretch of highway ahead of them and the pressing rain wetting the cracked pavement.

After hours of driving, Magnus piped up, clearing his throat imposingly before speaking: "What are the sleeping arrangements?"

The eccentric man leaned forward in his seat, but as if sensing the discomfort rolling off of the driver, backed off, once again leaning back into his seat. "So—uh, sleeping arrangements?" Magnus tried once more.

With set shoulders and pursed lips did Isabelle speak: "Clary and I, you and my brother, and Jace will get his own room." She spoke Jace's name with such disdain and venom she caught Clary's wandering eye. The redhead didn't believe she had ever heard Isabelle talk like that—Isabelle was the ever-happy, occupied girl that had no time for petty feuds or anything of the sort.

"Izzy what's wrong?" Clary shifted in her seat, pressing her back against the window. The cold of the glass seemed to seep through her clothes as if they weren't even there and directly to her porcelain, freckle-spattered skin.

Isabelle sighed, readjusting her grip on the leather-clad steering wheel. "I just—I did not want Jace coming on this trip but Alec fought me tooth and nail."

Clary slumped against the window, the seatbelt burrowing painfully into the hollow between her neck and collarbone. Even Magnus, who could rarely, if ever, keep his lips clamped together, was at a loss for words.

"He will not ruin our summer," the raven-haired girl murmured. "I won't let him."

"What if we ruin his summer inside of the other way around?" Magnus blurted unexpectedly.

Isabelle snapped her head towards Magnus's glittery own. "What do you mean?" She demanded sharply. Something about her tone made the small girl in the seat neighboring her shrink a little, like she thought that Isabelle might grow a set of elongated canines at any moment and rip her throat out.

"I mean," Magnus shifted for a second time, propping his feet up on top of the centre console, the soles of his metallic boots on display for the two girls. "We break the boy's stone-cold heart."

Clary fixed her eyes on the space between the two front seats, staring at the eighteen year-old stretched out in the backseat. His black hair, with strips of barely visible blue throughout it was eye catching in all its glittering glory. Clary would admit that much. But she would not admit under any circumstances that she liked—found irresistible—the idea of breaking Jace's ostensibly nonexistent heart.

"I'm game," Isabelle said grudgingly. "If he has one _to_ break," she murmured under her breath.

"Biscuit?" Magnus prompted the oddly quiet girl.

"I guess so?" The reply came out more like a question than a sure answer. But Magnus took the answer and Clary returned to her staring contest with the long stretch of wet road ahead.


	3. The Cottage on the Lake

**Huge thanks to my amazing beta: HeronFrayWood, who can not only pick up my grammatical errors and such, but she can get my chapters back to me in record time.**

 **EDITED: MARCH 18TH 2016**

* * *

Five and a half hours later of silence and pressing rain did Isabelle's car pull into a gravel driveway. The gravel, as well as her shiny red car, were soaked by the heavy droplets falling from the dark sky.

The clock on Isabelle's dashboard was bright and burned Clary's eyes after being subjected to darkness for such a long period of time. It was nearly three in the morning. Clary stepped out of the car, her limbs numb and stiff. Rain made ripples in the lake and doused her ruby hair. Mascara traced a path down her cheeks, but in a matter of moments, the heavy rain had washed away all of the tracks and had her soaked inside and out. The cold wind that accompanied the unforgiving rain cut through her soaked clothes like tiny knives, and it felt as though her blood had cooled and her bones had frozen.

"Rain: Mother Nature's very own shower," Magnus approached a shivering Clary, hands braced on his hips. He flashed a grin, but was beginning to feel the effects of the cool weather himself.

"Come on," Isabelle waved her arm, motioning for Clary to collect her bags.

With shaking shoulders did Clary load her slight form down with the weight of her bags. She headed for the stairs leading up to the front door, hoping that Isabelle had the key to get inside. "Biscuit, you silly, silly girl—give me some of those bags." Magnus did not give her a say in the matter, prying her backpack and duffle bag from her trembling hands, the tips of her pallid fingers taking on a blue hue.

Magnus pursed his lips, his eyebrows nearing his hairline. "That can't be good," he said, his eyes flitting to the blue tips of her fingers.

"I'm freezing," Isabelle's teeth chattered as she reached the top of the stairs, pulling out the keys. They clashed together as she fumbled one in particular into the lock, the jingling noise hardly audible above the pounding of rain on the awning above them.

Mercifully, the door swung open as a gust of wind brushed by. Isabelle nearly fell over trying to take the keys out of the door, weighed down by the incredible mass of all her suitcases and bags.

The dark-haired girl made a sound of awe and shock, dropping her bags by her feet, cursing when the when of one of her suitcases hit one of her toes. Magnus, who would have laughed in that bright way he had, stood still in utter shock.

"I never thought I'd find as much beauty anywhere else but New York," he murmured softly, tracing a tanned finger over a piece of the lightly-coloured paneling that lined the walls, after having dropped both his and Clary's bags by his own feet. She winced, praying that her perfume bottle hadn't shattered with the motion and soaked everything inside of her duffle bag.

Clary, too, began tracing her finger over the wood paneling, drawing odd designs with the tips of her finger—she highly suspected it was real wood, unlike the synthetic type her mother used for decoration at the Gallery back home.

She lifted a foot, attempting to step over the bags littering the entryway, managing only to trip and stumble over her own backpack. Even with her sneakers on, the floor felt smooth, like polished glass. It was dark, the hardwood, so dark and polished she swore she almost could see her reflection—a blurry mess of scarlet and yellow. It looked black, not that she had really ever heard of black hardwood, but then she looked again. Her inner artist knew it wasn't black, more of a dark, dark coffee colour. But if she didn't scrutinize the flooring, it would certainly pass for black, Clary felt.

The redhead turned her gaze to the left. It was a living room type area, with a flat screen plastered to the wall, a clear, shining glass coffee table with the remote controls for the DVD player and flat screen lined up neatly next to one another. And despite the pristine, plush-looking leather couch, all Clary could think was, Jace is going to love how neat it is. She wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to beat her head against the wall, than to ruin the neatness of it all—smash the coffee table, paint the walls, rip the couch cushions open.

But she did none of that—only turned and smiled a particularly forced smile at Isabelle and Magnus, who looked equally impressed by everything they had laid eyes upon thus far.

Pivoting to her right, she saw a gleaming kitchen. Stainless steel appliances seemed to litter the open floored space. A few feet away from the island, was a sitting area, with extremely comfortable-looking leather chairs. In the middle of the chairs sat a small, round table.

Separating the kitchen and living room, was a simple staircase, though to Clary, it seemed to be the centre piece of it all. The wood of the stairs, dark like the floors, were finely sanded, though they, unlike the floors, did not gleam like polished glass.

Unable to be bothered with kicking off her shoes, Clary ditched her suitcase at the bottom of the staircase and dashed upstairs. Magnus and Isabelle followed suit.

A long hallway stretched out before Clary when she reached the landing. Absently, she wondered whether they had taken a wrong turn at some point and this was actually a model home, and not where she was to spend her summer.

Mirrors hung on the walls along with a few water paintings, Clary noticed as she wondered, semi-starstruck, down to the end of the hall. Isabelle bounded ahead, Magnus going the opposite way of the girls—to the other end of the hallway.

"Iz?" Clary called to the girl, who had frozen in the open doorway.

Izzy spun on her heel to face Clary, a colossal grin adorning her model-like face. Raising her arms sky-high, Isabelle shouted: "By the power vested in me, I declare this our room!"

Clary laughed faintly, the sound drowned out by the roaring thunder outside the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of the room.

The room truly was gorgeous, even if it had bunk beds—which, according to Isabelle, was very middle-school—Clary thought. The bunk beds, pushed into a corner of the room, were black metal with duvets lying over top of the mattresses. A cherry wood dresser was pushed against the opposite wall, near the door, a long, narrow mirror hanging over it.

Isabelle gasped sharply, breaking through the starstruck haze Clary had been gloriously stuck inside of. She turned to look at whatever it was that had amazed Isabelle so.

"Look," Izzy clutched Clary's forearm, pulling her forward until she was staring into an immaculately white en-suite. A glass-bowled sink was on one wall, the glass-walled shower on another, the porcelain sitting somewhere in between the two. A mirror, round and with a silver, oval border hung above the sink.

Clary turned back to the room as Isabelle began to pose in front of the mirror, jutting out her hip and tugging on the ends of her waterfall-like hair in a way the redhead knew was ridiculous but made her undeniably jealous that her friend could do such a thing and not look like a total moron.

Clary stared out the titanic windows. Waves pounded ruthlessly against the shoreline, lightning seemed to split the dark sky open. Thunder rumbled; she could almost feel the jolt, she thought.

"Nice," Magnus whistled. Clary whirled round to face her friend. He grinned at her in a way that reminded her strangely of the Cheshire cat.

"Do you have bunk beds, too?" Isabelle shouted from where she remained, posing in front of the bathroom mirror.

Magnus's grin seemed to grow wider. "Fortunately, Alexander and I will not suffer such torture."

"What is wrong with bunk beds?!" Clary demanded at the same time that Isabelle made false gagging noises.

"Everything," Magnus and Isabelle responded in synchronization.

The redhead girl glanced sidelong at the bunk beds, suddenly drop-dead tired. Not just tired, no, bone-tired, it felt. "I think I'm going to go to sleep—unpack tomor—"

"No!" Isabelle looked distinctly appalled at the idea. "I am feeling the urge to rub it in Jace's face that we got first pick at rooms."

"And why would that be?" Clary asked wearily, rubbing at her right temple.

"Because," Isabelle said firmly, tilting her head up slightly.

"Because why, Izzy?" Magnus prompted, almost in a knowing manner.

"Because he's Jace, Magnus," she narrowed her eyes challengingly at Magnus—as if to say without words, try me. "Do I honestly need another reason?"

Magnus seemed to slump, shrugging resignedly. "I guess not." With that he turned and left the girls' bedroom. Clary followed, uselessly trying to match his long-legged strides down the hall. Isabelle followed her short friend, grumbling under her breath.

Magnus had reached the bottom of the staircase and had begun to collect their bags. He handed Clary her backpack—which she slung over her shoulder in one easy motion—then her duffle bag—which she hung off of her other shoulder—and finally her rather large suitcase—which she opted to just tug up the stairs.

She began to mount the stairs once more, finding it much more difficult this time around, the weight of all her bags attempting to make her fall backwards. And just as she reached the last step upwards, the door burst open and she jumped, Isabelle flinched visibly at the noise and dropped her suitcase on her toe again, while Magnus pressed a hand to his chest—right over his heart.

Jace came through the door first, laughing obnoxiously. The sound made her head hurt like it had the day before, in Isabelle's closet. Alec followed his friend in, tripping over Isabelle's fallen suitcase. He laid, sprawled like a starfish, one leg hitched up on the corner of his sister's suitcase, his arms flailing, in a way, as he tried desperately to get to his feet.

Magnus held out his hands for Alec to grasp, though his yellow-green eyes stayed narrowed menacingly at the infamous Jace Herondale. Jace stood frozen, the laughter dying on his tongue, his mouth closing promptly. Alec got to his feet, his cheekbones coloured bright cherry, brushing off his shirt, tugging on the hem nervously.

"What?" Jace swallowed visibly, his eyes darting briefly to Clary—moving up and down, as if checking her out. She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"Nothing," Magnus made a face, turning to speak quietly with his blushing boyfriend. Slowly, they made their way up the stairs, past the redhead, though Clary felt frozen in place, caught in the middle of Isabelle and Jace's crossfire. They glowered at each other, each with varying degrees of bitterness and hate.

Shrugging, Clary took the last step and walked down the hallway, dumping her bags just inside her bedroom. Seeing the bunk beds made her remember just how tired she had felt mere minutes ago. She stumbled forward, forgetting all about taking off her shoes or changing out of her days-old clothes. It just didn't seem to matter. In her nearly exhausted haze, nothing mattered—not Jonathan, not her dad, not the crash, not Jace and how he seemed to make her blank out like she was missing something, not even the way certain aspects of him made her head hurt.

And as darkness began to swallow her, she realized how nice it felt to not have anything matter.


	4. Day One

**EDITED JUNE 4TH, 2017**

* * *

She thought she had fallen asleep as soon as her head had brushed the cool material of her pillowcase, but she didn't remember, and she was still tired. Perhaps that had something to do with Isabelle swinging the entire top half of her body over the railing on the top bunk and cackling loudly. But the joke was on her, Clary knew—because Isabelle was much more tired than she, and definitely looked it.

The sound of something smashing was what had roused her from her half sleep, where the redhead swore she saw her twin coming to sit on the edge of her bed, swore she felt him moving her legs gently aside and tucking her hair back behind her ear the way he so often had—when he'd been able to move, when his lungs still drew breath and his heart still beat.

But she'd woken up. Just like she always did.

And he hadn't been there, and she'd wanted to curl in on herself and sob into her pillow. These mornings were the worst—and they were much too frequent for all the money her mom had washed away on therapists.

Clary didn't know if Izzy had known, been able to tell somehow, but the dark-eyed girl jumped down from her bed and pulled her hair up into a low-hanging ponytail, groaning as she stretched her arms high up over her head and stood on her tip-toes, Clary slipping into the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash some water on her face.

She didn't want her friends to know how much the survivor's guilt still choked her, but Clary had a sneaking suspicion that her friends knew it anyways.

But there had been pride shining in Isabelle's eyes at Clary's outfit—built from a pair of high-waisted jean shorts with the American flag printed on them and a thin, long white muscle shirt over top of her floral print bikini and black sandals—and something the redhead wasn't quite sure she liked flashing in Jace's eyes as she entered the kitchen, gone the second he noticed her steady gaze upon him.

"Morning," Clary smiled at Alec and Magnus, who were chatting softly as the latter poured himself a bowl of cereal.

Magnus wriggled his blue, glittery eyebrows at her. "You two certainly look like you just walked off of a hipster blog."

"Thanks," she remarked dryly, rolling her eyes. Turning to ask Isabelle whether they should go pick up some groceries or not, the question seemed to catch in her throat at the hot glare her friend bore. It wasn't at her, though—it was at Jace, who glared back at Isabelle for a moment before giving up, seemingly tired, and dropped his head in his hands before dragging them down his face.

Alec cleared his throat. "Do—does anyone want to go swimming? I want go swimming— _Clary_!" He looked towards her desperately as Magnus rose from his barstool; most probably to mediate whatever it was that was going on between Izzy and Jace. "Clary," he said again, "Come swimming with me."

"Sure?" She thought her voice might have cracked mid-word, thought that she caught Jace's eyes boring into hers, pleading with her to leave. But as soon as it registered, Alec was tugging her hurriedly out the door, Isabelle was opening her mouth to shout, Jace was glowering, and she was down the stairs.

* * *

Clary tugged the thin material of her shirt over her head as Alec ruffled his rumpled hair, realizing that neither of them had towels. "Fantastic," he sighed and tossed his shirt into the sand. Clary piled her clothes on top of the shirt, loving the warm feeling she got over her skin when the sun hit it.

Clary turned to Alec suddenly. "Do you think they'll ever stop?"

His eyes widened. "Fighting?" He sighed again. "I hoped…one day…But it doesn't seem likely."

"That's reassuring," Clary laughed tightly.

The two of them were still standing there, not really looking at anything, when Isabelle bounded out, tossing towels at their heads. "How are you two standing around when there's a perfectly refreshing lake right there?"

Clary pulled the towel off of her head, frowning, and hair now in disarray. "Iz! Come on!"

Isabelle chuckled and tossed her long ponytail over one shoulder, pulling off her shorts in quite possibly the most awkward manner Clary had ever seen. An arm slid around her shoulders, and she whipped around in surprise. Magnus grinned down at her. Had they already resolved things with Jace or had they just left him be at the house?

Izzy, in her brilliant red bikini, was waving Clary and Magnus down to the shore where she stood, gentle waves lulling at her feet, Alec beside her. Magnus looped his fingers around Clary's wrist and pulled her along behind him as she began jogging, and she had no other choice but to run or fall face first into the hot sand and have Magnus drag her—because she was quite certain Magnus _would_ drag her.

But Magnus didn't stop at the shore—no, he pulled Clary right into the water with him. While it was at Clary's waist, it barely came up to Magnus's hips. She hissed out a few rather uncomplimentary words as the cool water came into contact with her skin.

Isabelle splashed her brother suddenly, and Clary felt a grin slide into place on her face as she watched his expression turn from surprised to slightly vengeful. Izzy splashed him again, and Clary rushed over, Magnus in tow. They all laughed as Alec spewed out a mouthful of water, wiping it from his eyes and shaking his hair. Clary yelped as the cold water touched her arms and hit her face.

They all laughed at that, too.

"Maybe I should just go suntan," she said sarcastically, motioning to the spot on the sand where they'd all piled their clothes and the few towels Isabelle had unceremoniously chucked at her head.

"Maybe you should," Isabelle agreed, nodding, a little smile playing on her lips. "You _are_ really pasty."

Clary's mouth popped open, a sort of betrayed yet surprised expression written across her face. "Isabelle Sophia!" Isabelle giggled as Clary's hands went to rest on her hips.

Then suddenly, Clary was marching—as well as one could march being about five-two and up to their waist in water—over to Isabelle. She stood still a moment, Izzy regarding her a little apprehensively but still smiling faintly, and then Clary, mustering all her strength, pushed Izzy over into the water.

Alec was positively dying of laughter, bent over clutching his clutching at his stomach, the sound deep and so loud Clary thought it was possible the people closer to shore were hearing it, too. Isabelle came up gasping and wiping water away from her eyes, leaving black smudges of mascara in her wake. Long pieces of dark hair stuck to her arms and her face and just about anywhere they could reach. She glared at her brother, now gasping too—but for an entirely different reason than his sister—and moved closer to him in the water, reached out, and pushed against his side.

Alec all but dropped dead into the water.

"When did you get so strong?" Magnus eyed Isabelle's biceps like they had threatened him, somehow.

She admired her biceps lovingly as Alec rose up out of the water, still laughing as he panted for breath. "When I realized most boys don't understand the word 'no'."

They were silent a minute, Magnus wrapping his arm around Alec's waist. It must have looked weird, she thought, seeing them all just standing there in a kind of circle shape after having fought and splashed at each other.

"Still wanna go sunbathe, Clare?" Magnus asked, cocking his head. Clary wondered how he still had glitter in his brows and how not one gelled hair had come out of place.

"Sounds like a plan!" Isabelle chirped happily and led the way to the shore.

When they were all stretched out on their towels—Clary lying on her stomach, Isabelle on her back with her hands folded on her stomach and her eyes closed against the harshness of the sun, Magnus and Alec with their heads bent together and talking in low voices—and "soaking up the rays", as Alec had so eloquently put it, Clary asked Isabelle, "Why were you mad at Jace earlier?"

The conversation between Alec and Magnus died off. Isabelle sat up, cleared her throat.

"He was staring at you," Isabelle told her simply, refusing to meet her curious gaze.

"So?" Clary laughed a little. "He's _Jace_. He wouldn't _be_ Jace if he wasn't checking out every girl within a five mile radius."

Isabelle turned her head slowly to look at Clary, who was still lying back on her towel. "He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, like you were just any other girl he wanted to get with. But you aren't. You are Clary mother-effing Fray, and my best friend and I'll be damned if I—"

"Izzy." Alec interjected sharply.

"He said he'd just rather not come," Magnus said placating, a hand going to rest on Alec's thigh.

"He's my best friend Izzy, and it's not fair to put all the blame on him all the time. He isn't such a bad guy!"

Clary, drawing designs in the sand, listened confused, to the argument unfolding before her.

"He's a complete ass, Alec! Why can't you see that?" Izzy shouted, face flushing with anger.

"Because I know him, Isabelle, that's why!"

"Why you're friends with him is beyond me!"

"Evidently," Alec fumed.

Isabelle ran a hand through her drying hair, glaring at the ground through narrowed eyes as Magnus laid a placating hand on his boyfriend's thigh. "If Isabelle and Clary don't like Jace, let them—besides, Jace isn't the mst likeable person on the planet, you know." He pointed out.

Isabelle stuck her tongue out petulantly at her brother, as if to gloat: _Haha, I'm not the only one!_

Alec looked like he was just barely stopping himself from launching back into the argument. He also looked like he kind of didn't know how to respond. And Clary wondered how you _could_ respond to that—how she would respond, if she knew what was going on, exactly.

Then he muttered, half sarcastic, half bitter, "I can't compete with that."

"Come on," Isabelle hopped to her feet. "Let's go get changed, Clary."

Clary held her hands up to Isabelle and groaned. Isabelle rolled her eyes and took Clary's hands and pulled her to her feet. The redhead couldn't help but smile.

The two of them gathered up their clothes in their arms and headed for the beach house.

* * *

The house was quiet, almost like Jace had wandered off and they had it all to themselves—but that thought was quickly dismissed when Jace walked past them to the kitchen, glaring at the pair of them. Clary rolled her eyes and briefly entertained the idea of flipping him off; Isabelle actually did. Jace returned the gesture with a flourish of his hands.

Clary tugged her friend up the stairs. They had stuff to do, and a certain plan to break a certain blond boy's heart.

Lowering his hand, Clary felt more than noticed his eyes lingering on her. She propped a hand on her hip. "Never seen a bikini, Herondale?"

He smirked at her. "Most definitely, I was just thinking about how offended the creator of the bikini would be if they saw you in one."

"Then maybe stop checking me out. Just a thought."

"I would never dream of subjecting my precious eyes to such a thing," Jace brought his hand to his chest; looking slightly offended she'd ever suggest he would do something like that.

"Then why are you still staring, Jace?" Isabelle cocked her head to the side. Her tone was vaguely threatening, and Clary thought she caught a hint of curiosity there, too. Did Isabelle _like_ Jace?

The thought nearly made Clary gasp out loud. It would explain why she always got mad when she caught Jace checking out other girls—staring at Clary. Maybe he knew and had rejected her, and that's why she was always mad at him.

It would explain why Isabelle had agreed to break Jace's heart.

It was because he had already broken hers.


	5. Bonfire

**Chapter playlist: (I highly suggest playing it throughout the whole thing, k)**

 **\- I'm The One by DJ Khaled**

 **\- Uh Huh by Julia Michaels**

 **\- Party Monster by The Weeknd**

 **\- HUMBLE. by Kendrick Lamar**

 **\- Tonight by Enrique Iglesias**

 **\- Thunder by Imagine Dragons**

 **\- Just Call by Prince Fox**

 **EDITED: JUNE 4TH, 2017**

* * *

They'd spent all afternoon strategizing about different ways they might be able to break Jace Herondale's heart. Clary had been distracted for most of it, analyzing Isabelle and wondering if she had really hit the mark.

If Isabelle really liked Jace.

If Jace had really broken Isabelle's heart and this was her way of getting revenge.

And she was still thinking about that, hours later as they rushed to get ready for a bonfire on the beach Alec and Magnus had been invited to after the girls had come inside.

"I can't believe they waited an hour before telling us!" Izzy exclaimed, tossing her hands up into the air. "Magnus _knows_ how long it takes to do our makeup." Currently, Isabelle was doing her eyeliner, and Clary was amazed at the fact that that melodramatic arm maneuver hadn't messed up the winged line Isabelle had been drawing on her eyelid. She was even more amazed that Isabelle had already finished contouring and highlighting her face—Clary was still blending out the darkish colour on the hollows of her cheekbones and the sides of her nose.

"Are you kidding?" Clary demanded, facing the mirror in their shared en suite. It was barely big enough for the two of them to see their reflections simultaneously. "You're almost done! I'm about halfway, _maybe_."

"Well that's 'cause you did your hair first." Isabelle motioned with one hand to the carefully-done loose curls hanging down Clary's back.

They were silent for a while, and after a coat of matte red lipstick, Isabelle said, "Voila! My masterpiece is complete!" and went into the bedroom to change.

Isabelle remerged in a strappy blue crop top that pushed up her boobs and white jean shorts that made Clary cringe just thinking of all the things that could be spilt on them. "Hey do you think you can help me with my eyeliner?" She asked.

"Yeah. Sit on the counter or something, I don't think I can bend that low."

Clary hopped up onto the counter. "Oh, real nice."

"Aren't I?" Isabelle grinned and set to work on Clary's eyeliner. A few minutes past before Isabelle spoke again. "Done. Come on, I found the cutest top in my suitcase. I think it would look super cute with those high-waisted shorts you have."

"The ones with the buttons?"

"Yeah, those."

Clary wriggled her eyebrows. "You think the top'll do all the work and seduce Jace _for_ me?" The plan they'd come up with this afternoon had multiple down sides, the main one being that there was no other way for this to work than for Clary to break Jace's heart. Isabelle, for whatever reason, thought it would make him hurt the most.

Isabelle tipped her head back as she laughed loudly. "It just might."

Because Jace, obviously, was coming to the party with them. Clary highly doubted, however, that he would hang around with them. Probably Alec, but no one else. She realized then that despite his popularity among people for his looks, he had very little friends. At school he had always been surrounded by people, but where were they all now? As far as she knew Jace's phone wasn't ringing off the hook with people eager to talk to him. How lonely it must be, Clary thought, to have only one friend.

Isabelle, who had been digging through her suitcase, muttering about _Oh where had she put that stupid thing?_ Finally spun around holding up a small knit tan and white crop top and looking triumphant.

"Iz," Clary laughed. "Why did you buy that in the first place, it looks tiny."

Pulling back to look at it, she nodded. "Oh, it is, trust me. It's a bra on me."

* * *

"Are we ready to party?" Isabelle grinned at the boys, all sitting dressed plainly—next to the two of them, and Magnus, at least, who's hair had suddenly regained its bright teal highlights and wore a silk teal shirt with a beaded design on both sides of the slit down the front. His hands were decked out in so many rings Clary wondered how he managed to get them all on.

"Always," Magnus grinned excitedly and pulled Alec up by the wrist. Alec gave a startled expression as Jace stood up lazily, his curly hair stylishly messy and his eyes a dull, dying gold. His eyes roved over Isabelle's figure, and then Clary's. He paused at the shirt.

Clary smirked.

* * *

The bonfire was so hot you couldn't stand next to it without it feeling like your leg hair was being singed off, Clary realized as she bent to grab some beer bottles out of a cooler. She had no idea whose it was, but whoever they were, they were now two beers short.

The boys had long since disappeared—Alec and Magnus dancing together somewhere in the crowd, she assumed, and Jace off to find an adoring crowd of fans—and Clary had felt bad leaving Isabelle alone on a log set up by the fire to watch the roaring flames.

When she returned Isabelle smiled a wicked, conspirator smile at her. "Ready to break Jace's heart?" She asked, and then glanced around. "You remember what you need to do?"

"Faze one," Clary grinned, "Make him jealous."

"Go get it, tiger," Izzy stood and pulled Clary up with her.

"What?" Clary raised her eyebrows.

"You heard me," Isabelle took a swig out of her bottle. "Now go."

Isabelle soon disappeared from her line of sight, weaving in between the crowd, probably to find her brother and Magnus. Clary began wandering around, figuring it was as best a way to find Jace as any. She noticed large speakers set up, and then she began to notice the song that was playing, and decided to dance. She felt shy at first, feeling weird when she moved her hips or when she raised her arms as she shouted along with everyone else to the song[K1] :

By the end of the first song, she found herself swaying along to the beat of the next, laughing and drinking her nearly empty beer. She spotted a guy who, from the back, looked not too bad. She thought Jace had to be around here somewhere, and if he saw her kissing someone, specifically someone attractive, he might feel even a small spark of jealousy—and that was all she needed him to feel.

But then the guy turned around, and his chocolate-y eyes and curls reminded her too much of Simon for her to consider making out with him any more than she already had. She wrinkled her nose and tipped her head back to drink the last little mouthful of beer in her bottle. It wasn't particularly good, but it made her _feel_ good, and that was all she really ever wanted from her alcohol.

She was still dancing when she spotted Magnus and Alec through a gap in the gyrating bodies. Their lips were locked together and Clary felt a blush spread across her cheeks at witnessing something she probably wasn't meant to, but thinking all the while how happy she was they had found each other. She turned away and continued her now-steady rhythm of dancing to the song—it was so familiar, but she couldn't remember the name for the life of her.

"You shouldn't be drinking that," an all too familiar voice chastised her from behind. She spun around, a lazy smile spreading across her lips.

"So? If my memory serves, I can recall a certain someone"—she jabbed a finger at his chest—"getting absolutely wasted and running naked down Broadway."

Jace cocked an eyebrow at her. "And if my memory serves, you're a lightweight, Fray."

"How would _you_ know?" Clary backed up a step, removing her finger from where it rested on his chest, suddenly feeling much too close. The world felt too close.

He sighed. "It's true, isn't it? Come on, I'll take you home."

He reached out toward her, and Clary backed up another step. "Nah, I think I'm good." She dropped her empty bottle and grabbed someone by the shirt and pulled him to her. She put her lips to his; standing on her tiptoes, and kissed him hard. The guy obliged her, kissing her until she pulled back. She looked back at Jace, his face contorted into something she couldn't quite place. "Thanks for the concern, though," she told him sarcastically and floated back into the throng of the crowd. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she realized how much she'd _enjoyed_ that; seeing Jace seethe. God, maybe this plan would be fun.

After maybe ten minutes of just wandering around, Clary found Magnus and Alec hanging out on the edge of the party. Magnus looked a little frustrated, and she soon understood why.

Alec was absolutely smashed.

He was perpetually smiling, his hair a mess and hanging in front of his eyes as he leaned heavily against his boyfriend. His cheeks were flush with colour and she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her throat. "Guess Alec's not very good with beer either?"

Magnus groaned, trying to shift Alec's weight. "It's never that easy, Biscuit."

"Clary!" Alec shouted, his eyes going wide. Clary thought he looked rather like an excited child.

"Alec!" She mimicked, laughing.

"Your hair, it's so red. Has it always been so red?" He asked in wonder, twirling a strand around his pale finger.

"Yeah, Alec."

"Amazing," he wiped a tear from his eye, voice full of awe.

Clary couldn't contain her laughter. And neither could Magnus, apparently, because he laughed so hard he bent forward and Alec lost whatever grip he'd had on Magnus or Magnus lost whatever grip he'd had on Alec, and Alec fell to the sand.

Alec didn't find it nearly as funny as she and Magnus did: "Magnus!" he slurred. "My tush!"

"God, Alec," Magnus all but cackled, "You gotta help me out here and stop talking or we're never going to get back to the house."

Alec frowned, his dark brows furrowed like he was thinking very hard about something. Clary bent down, about to help him out, when he stage-whispered: "Wanna know a secret Clary?"

"Sure, Alec," Clary chuckled, pulling him up to his feet with no small amount of difficulty.

"Jace _looveeessss_ yooooouuu," he sang. Clary froze. She dropped Alec. He frowned up at her, rubbing his "tush".

Magnus's jaw dropped open, and his voice was slightly breathless when he asked, "What did you just say, Alexander?"

"I love it when you call me Alexander." He smiled and tried to caress Magnus's face, only to end up awkwardly groping his chin.

Magnus pulled away from Alec and went to grab Clary's hand. "No," she said. She felt several things course through her: anger of the strongest degree, the urge to burst out in tears, the sense that Alec was lying, that he didn't know _what_ he was talking about, that it was just the cheap beer talking. This couldn't be true. Jace didn't like her, she didn't like him.

That's how it'd always been. That's how it would always be.

But so _what_ if Jace liked her? So what if he used to? It didn't change anything. It wasn't like she wanted to have a heated make out session now that she knew. It wasn't like she _liked_ him now.

Magnus had picked up Alec once more. "Clary, you can't believe that," he laughed, and if Clary didn't know better she'd say she caught a note of nerves in it. "He's drunk. He has no idea what he's talking about."

She didn't say anything. She wasn't sure. But how much sense would it make to put so much faith in what a drunken Alec said? Sure he was never usually one for lies sober, but that didn't mean his drunk self held himself to the same standard. God, she felt like her head was spinning on her shoulders. She felt like the world was too close again, like maybe if she could just take a step back, away from the flickering light of the bonfire, away from the deafening music, away from everyone, she might be able to make sense of everything.

She wasn't even sure what she was trying to make sense of at this point.

"Biscuit, why don't we head back to the house and talk about this?" Magnus tried.

"I don't _want_ to talk about this, Mags," Clary rubbed at her temples. She was already losing faith in what she'd thought this summer would be—and it was only their first day in Virginia. She started walking; hoping if she walked fast enough Magnus would fall behind with Alec's weight to carry, too. But his long strides were apparently unaffected by the weight of a now-quiet Alec in his arms.

He nodded understandingly. "All right." Then after a pause he asked, "Well, do you want to watch _Mean Girls_?" A knowing smile. Clary groaned. She didn't want the offer to sound tempting, but it did—really tempting.

"Do you know all of my weaknesses?" She asked, barely able to restrain the smile.

"With coffee?" He said instead of simply _Yes_. This time she didn't try to hide the faint smile that began to play over her mouth.

So what if Jace liked her? she asked herself. It didn't change anything, so why should she let it?

* * *

Clary and Magnus burst out laughing, coffee splashing up out of her green mug with the motion. "This has got to be possibly the best movie I've ever seen or ever _will_ see," she told Magnus through a laugh.

Magnus grinned at her. "Aren't you glad I subjected you to that 'torture' the first time I made you watch it?"

Clary nodded, brushing her hair back. She'd washed off her makeup while Magnus had put Alec to bed in their shared room. She snapped her head to look at Magnus abruptly. "Wait, did you bring _White Chicks_?" She readjusted her hold on her mug, careful not to spill anymore than she already had.

Magnus gave her an offended look. "How dare you ask such a question; of course I did."

The front door burst open and Clary flinched at the sound. Magnus glanced at her, concern scribbled over his features as Clary glanced over.

"Clary?" Isabelle shouted, voice strained with panic.

"Izzy?" She raised her eyebrow in question. She gave a little half-hearted wave. Isabelle rushed over to the couch Clary and Magnus were splayed out on, her arms wrapping around Clary's head and neck in probably the weirdest hug Clary had ever received.

"Oh my God, I was so worried about you I thought—"

"Something terrible happened to me?"

"Of course that's what I thought Clarissa! I already almost lost you once, and we're in freaking Virginia! I mean, for all I know you could've gotten kidnapped, or drugged or raped," Isabelle gushed, waving her hands as she spoke. "If you ever do you that to me again, rest assured I will strangle you."

"I'm fine Izzy, look at me. I'm here, I'm breathing. For all intents and purposes, I'm fine." Clary said, wrapping Izzy in another hug.

"God you can't do that to me," Isabelle sighed into the crook between Clary's neck and shoulder. The brunette lifted her head, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, looking as relieved and tired as Clary had ever seen her—even more so than the day she'd gotten the heels she'd waned for really cheap at the Black Friday sale.

"Where's Alec?" Isabelle asked, glancing around, her eyes settling on the TV screen where Regina George was telling Gretchen Wieners that "fetch" was never going to happen.

"Upstairs," Magnus sighed. "In bed. Sleeping off the hangover, hopefully."

Clary flopped back against the poufy couch cushions. She took a long sip from her mug, watching as Isabelle stood up again and stretched her arms high above her head.

"I'm going to bed, okay? If I wake up and you're gone Clary, I swear I'll kill you myself," the tall girl promised as she headed to the staircase.

Clary nodded absently. "Mhmm, whatever you say, dear."

"Goodnight, _peaches_ ," Isabelle made a kissy noise from the stairs, blowing Clary a goodnight kiss.

* * *

About halfway through _White Chicks_ , Magnus yawned obnoxiously loud. He stood up wearily. "I'm going to bed, Biscuit," he told her, heading to the stairs. Clary sprawled out even more on the couch, stretching out her legs and snuggling down. "You should try to get some sleep, too."

"Scout's honour," Clary saluted Magnus as he walked slowly up the steps. "…after I finish this movie."

Magnus yawned again and the last she heard of him was the click of his bedroom door opening and closing.

She watched the movie until her eyelids felt heavier and heavier with very blink, every passing scene. She couldn't even remember what part of the movie they were at when she opened her eyes after every blink. When her lids finally slipped closed, she didn't fight it.

* * *

Jace walked, drained, back to the beach house. He'd hadn't realized he had walked that far down the beach after his _conversation_ with Clary—if you could call it that—and it had taken him far longer to walk back than he would have liked to admit. But he hadn't minded the walk, because it had given him some alone time with his thoughts, time where he didn't have to pretend he disliked Clary, didn't have to pretend he wasn't still devastated over that car crash that had all but stolen her away. It hurt to think that this Clary, while still Clary in nearly every sense of the word, was Clary, but not the Clary he knew.

But she didn't know that, and he didn't want her to because what if even if she knew, if she somehow remembered, she didn't care? What if she wasn't that Clary again, even with all her memories intact? Her relationship with him now was hateful and practically non-existent; what if it stayed that way even after she found out?

He pulled open the front door, and he did it so slowly it didn't make a sound. He listened for a second, to his quiet and evening breathing, and to the sound of a TV playing somewhere in the house. A faint light spilled out from the den on his left side. Curious, Jace walked over. He peered over the side of the couch and felt his heart take a bounding leap up into his throat.

He felt like he couldn't breathe right.

There was Clary, beautiful, passionate, unparalleled Clary. She looked so calm, so peaceful in her sleep that it reminded Jace for a startling second, of the Clary he had grown up with. It reminded him of the time she'd fallen asleep with her head on his lap one day while they watched movies.

Jace gave himself a little kick. He couldn't afford to think like this. He switched off the TV. He stepped closer to Clary.

Yes, he couldn't afford to think like this, but he'd allow himself sixty more seconds to do it anyways. He bent over and pressed a kiss to her forehead, wondering if he took everything he felt and put it into that chaste little kiss if it would all go away. But of course it wouldn't. Life wasn't that kind, and kisses didn't fix things for people the way they did in fairytales.

She stirred slightly in her sleep and rolled over to face the couch cushions. Goodnight, Clary, he thought and forced himself not to look at her again as he walked away.


	6. A Friendly Swim

Clary rolled over, expecting to find more, soft, plush, warm bed, but she found nothing, and within seconds, there was au loud _thump_ noise; Clary had fallen on the floor. She sat up, and rubbed her shoulder, gently, but applying pressure. "Damn it," Clary cursed, realizing that she had in fact fallen off of the couch, and not her bed. Clary stood up, and brushed off her shirt, walking up to her bedroom.

-*#*-

Isabelle was still asleep, as Clary entered the bedroom, she noticed this, and thought, _if I'm awake, she has to be, too_. Clary walked over to Isabelle's bed, paused for a moment, _what should I do to her?_ Clary thought. An idea popped into her head, and she headed to the bathroom, and looked for something she could put water in; she checked under the sink, and found a blue bucket, with a worn out handle. But it would have to do. Clary turned on the tap, and put the bucket under it-making sure the water was ice cold. Once the bucket was filled, Clary picked it up. It was a lot heavier than she had intended it to be. So, when she picked it up with one hand, she nearly spilt all the contents of the bucket onto the bathroom floor. Clary grabbed the handle-with two hands this time-trying not to make too much noise or spill anymore water, as she walked back into the bedroom.

Isabelle was still sound asleep-like a damn rock-as she drooled on her pillow. Clary stifled a giggle by biting on her lip, as she approached the bed. Isabelle began to stir, but stopped once she turned over onto her stomach. Clary lifted the bucket, and dumped the ice cold contents onto Isabelle's sleeping form.

Isabelle jolted awake, flying up into a sitting position, her inky hair flying around in the air, and then flying out of bed, looking around the room, until she spotted Clary, who was in the midst of throwing the bucket onto the floor, and dashing out of the bedroom. "I'm going to kill you!" Isabelle screamed at the top of her lungs, running out of the bedroom. Clary was faster than Isabelle-even considering her short legs-but still, she needed a shield. And what better than a _human_ shield?

Clary quickly opened and closed Jace's bedroom door, to try and trick Isabelle into thinking that she'd gone in there. She quickly ran down the stairs, light on her feet, trying to not make any noise, as she tried to escape the murder house. Isabelle was now in the hall way, obviously having heard the opening and closing of a door. And while Isabelle opened Jace's bedroom door, Clary threw open the front door, and shut it behind her, as softly as possible. She knew she had to run, but to _where_? Clary ran in the direction of the beach, where people were walking on the sand, or setting up towels and lathering themselves in sunscreen. The sun was hot, and blinding, as Clary ran closer and closer to the water.

Clary could see Isabelle coming out of the hose, looking around frantically, her clothes soaked, and her hair sticking to her forehead an back. Clary had no where to run, besides down the beach or into the water. So, Clary ran as fast as she could into the water. She didn't look back, but she wasn't really paying attention to where she was going, either. So when she ran into something solid, she was taken aback, as she fell into the water and onto her butt. Clary looked up to see who she'd run into, and was surprised to see tawny eyes and golden hair. Clary looked behind her, to see Isabelle was getting closer and closer with every passing second. Clary stood up quickly, not bothering to apologize to Jace, as she began to run again, this time as fast s her small legs could carry her. "Clarissa! I'm going to murder you!" Isabelle yelled in her direction. "You do that!" Clary yelled back, as she treaded through the cool water. Isabelle was close to the water now, and Clary's heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, she felt like it might burst or pop out of her chest.

In this moment, Clary had a realization; Alec went wherever Jace went, and Magnus went wherever Alec went. "Magnus!" Clary shouted. "Magnus! Alec!"

"Biscuit?" Magnus asked, and Clary realized that he had been standing just out a little deeper. "Save me!" She squeaked, as she ran to him, and jumped into his arms. "She's going to kill me!" Clary said, as Magnus looked down at her in surprise. "What did you do?" Magnus asked, as he walked a little bit. "I may or may not have dumped cold water on her while she slept," Clary said, trying to sound innocent, as Magnus laughed. "And now, she wants to murder you?" Magnus asked, giving her a knowing smile. Clary nodded. "Help me?" She asked, giving him the puppy dog eyes, as she stuck out her lower lips a little bit, her eyes glossy. "Well," Magnus said, as Isabelle began running towards Clary and Magnus. "I can't let Isabelle murder my biscuit, now can I?" Clary smiled up at him, but it faded quickly, as she realized Isabelle was trying to grab her, but she was too short to reach Clary-so she began jumping. She caught hold of Clary's shirt, and it ripped, as Magnus lifted her higher in the air. At this point, Clary no longer wore a shirt, only the bikini top she'd put on underneath it last night before the bonfire. And she was very grateful to herself for making that decision.

"Magnus! Put her down!" Isabelle demanded, as Alec laughed at his sister. "No can do, Sweet cheeks," Magnus replied, lifting Clary even higher into the air. People were beginning to stare-if they weren't already. Clary looked down, to see a furious Isabelle, who was holding her ripped shirt in one hand, while the other moved hair out of her eyes. "You think I'd murder her? Not with these nails; I just got them done before we left," Isabelle said, admiring her bright red nails. Clary laughed. "We both know you could kill me and not get a drop of blood on your outfit," Isabelle nodded, as if considering the thought. "You're right, but still, I'm not going to kill you; I'm saving that tedious task for another day," Clary laughed sarcastically. "Oh, joy, you're not going to kill me... _today_ ," Isabelle grinned at her. "Exactly," Clary sighed, and tapped Magnus on the shoulder. "Okay, let me down," Magnus complied, and put her down into the water.

Clary stood there, in her denim cut-offs and her green bikini top. It had certainly caught Isabelle's attention, who was staring at her in awe. She squealed. "Oh, I'm rubbing off on you!" Isabelle wrapped Clary in a tight hug, stealing all the oxygen from her lungs. Clary tapped h=Isabelle on the shoulder. "Iz, can't...breath..." Clary managed to choke out, and Isabelle immediately. "Sorry, I'm just so proud," Isabelle said fanning her face with her hands, and Clary was almost positive she seen Isabelle getting teary eyes.

 **Jace POV**

Jace rolled his eyes at Isabelle, but couldn't seem to peel his eyes off of Clary; she now only wore the bright green bikini top, and her flat, ivory stomach was visible. Her red curls were slightly wet from when she'd fallen into the water after running into his chest, but they still looked perfect like they had last night. Isabelle peeled her top off, and threw it onto the beach, Jace gaped but relaxed when he saw that she, too, wore a bikini top underneath. "Oh, calm down Jace," Isabelle rolled her eyes at him. She then proceeded to take off her denim shorts, to reveal the matching, black bikini bottoms. Clary, however kept her shorts on, as Magnus picked her up again, and she went white with sudden shock. "Magnus what are you doing?" She asked, looking down from here Magnus held her above his head. "In you go," Magnus grinned evilly. "Magnus! What-no!" Clary screamed, as Magnus threw Clary into the water, and in she went with a splash. Jace couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Isabelle frowned at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "She'll get you back for that-she's a vengeful little thing," Isabelle warned. Jace watched, as Alec slowly, and cautiously backed away, water splashing up as he moved.

 **Clary POV**

Clary swallowed a mouthful of water, as she broke the surface of the water, and nearly chocked on it. Clary stood up as quickly as she could, brushing wet hair away from her face, and glaring at Magnus, who had glitter eyeliner on. "What is it with you two?" Clary demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Constantly throwing me in the water," Alec and Magnus looked guiltily at each other, while Clary and Isabelle shared a knowing glance, with a nod, they jumped each onto Magnus and Alec. Isabelle jumped onto Alec, clinging to his back, holding his neck in her tight grip. Clary had jumped onto Magnus, and was holding onto him like a monkey; her legs wrapped around his waist, and her arms holding onto his neck tightly. She heard him let out a choking sound, but didn't loosen her grip one bit. Clary turned to grin at Isabelle, who returned the grin evilly. "Should we let them go?" Clary asked, knowing the answer. "Let me think about it," Isabelle said, pretending to be in deep thought. "Nope," Clary and Isabelle said in unison.

Jace was laughing hysterically, as Alec and Magnus glared at him, through the choke holds. "What?" Jace asked through the laughter. "You two are being held in choke holds by _girls_ ," Jace pointed out. "That are smaller than you, and weaker than you," Clary and Isabelle glared at him. "Your turn next?" Isabelle asked, in an annoyed tone. Jace went white, the colour draining from his face. Anyone could tell that he was clearly terrified by the idea of having Clary and Isabelle tackle him. "I think so," Isabelle declared, and she released her brother from the choke hold, landing perfectly on her feet, water splashing up around her. Clary released Magnus, following Isabelle's actions, but stumbling a little bit when she landed. "Now who's afraid of two _girls?_ " Clary mocked his earlier tone. Jace tried to back away, but to no avail, because Isabelle launched herself at him, tackling him into the water, while Clary watched with immense amusement. Alec and Magnus were coughing, and rubbing their obviously sore necks.

Jace fell into the water with a big splash, creating a small tidal wave, that splashed against Clary's legs. Isabelle got off of Jace, wiping her hands off as if to get dirt off of them, as she gave Jace a superior look. "Not so weak anymore, huh?" Isabelle asked, and Jace only groaned in reply. Clary could easily see how muscled Jace was, what with his six-almost eight-pack visible. "Get up, Herondale," Clary said, rolling her eyes. "If we're so weak, you can't be _that_ hurt, right?" She mocked him, crossing her arms over her chest. Jace sat up, scowling at Clary, who didn't seem to be paying him any attention. He stood up, and walked over to Isabelle who was in conversation with Magnus-discussing clothes, he assumed. Isabelle turned around to face him, almost like she had eyes on the back of her head. "You're going to pay for that," Jace said, and at Isabelle's confused expression, he picked her up. "Put me down!" Isabelle yelled at him, as he walked out deeper into the water. "Whatever you say," Jace grinned wickedly at her, before letting her go into the water. Three was a splash, and then silence for a few moments before Isabelle reappeared.

She glared daggers at him, but Jace didn't care. He walked over to Clary who was looking at something in the distance, not paying attention. Or, that's what he thought. She held out a hand, telling him to stop. "Don't even think about it," Clary warned. "Too late for that," Jace said, picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder. "Put me down, you ass!" Clary screamed at him. Clary felt him shake under her, as he laughed. "Not a chance," Jace smirked to himself. "Jonathan Christopher Herondale! Put me down!" Clary pounded her fists against his back, as he froze. "How did you know my name?" He asked, and Clary rolled her eyes at him, as she propped herself up on her elbows on his shoulder, having managed to slip down a little bit in his tight grip. "With all the time I spend at Isabelle's house you think that I haven't heard Alec getting mad at you?" With Jace still unmoving, Clary managed to worm around in his grip enough, that it loosened, and she was able to get free, dropping into the water, surprising herself when she landed on her feet. "Some revenge," Clary muttered, as she walked away from him, back towards where Isabelle stood with Alec and Magnus. She was surprised Jace had let her go that easy; in school he would've stuck it out until the end. But, it seemed that summer vacation was turning him into a completely different person; he wasn't super loud, or annoyingly obnoxious all the time, he didn't constantly torment her. Clary assumed that it was because he didn't have a large crowd to impress, and that if he did do something awful to her out here, no one would find the body...because Isabelle was very good at hiding things, and leaving no evidence-she once planned out Jace's murder, complete with exact locations where she could bury his body. Of course, that was after an incident in tenth grade, that Clary tried never to think of.

Isabelle gaped at her. "You're not all wet?" Clary smiled proudly. "I called him by his full name and he froze, so I jumped down," she shrugged. Isabelle glared at Jace's back. "And meanwhile, I got dumped into the water," she sounded bitter, yet somewhat amused. "Oh, who cares about the idiot?" Magnus said, dismissing the topic of Jace. "Let's go swim!" And with that, Magnus began walking out further into the lake, until it was up to his hips. Alec, Isabelle and Clary followed him, and swam for what seemed like all day, while Jace stood knee-deep in water, watching them from afar.

* * *

 **Alright, guys, I know this chapter is kind of boring, but I've been having a case of writer's block...again. And it sucks. So pelase leave your suggestions below, I love hearing them. And also, I love getting constructive critism, it helps out with the story tremendously. So, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! And, that's pretty much it, so until next chapter...**

 **Oh, almost forgot! The next chapter will be up when this story hits 25 reviews!**


	7. Jace's Revenge-Part One

They had swam all morning, and when Clary had gotten out, she found that her fingers and toes were pruny. But now, they all sat in the kitchen area of the beach house, enjoying breakfast, or in Clary's case a big, warm, cup of coffee. "Biscuit, you should really eat something," Magnus said, as he picked at his bowl of cereal. Clary tried to raise an eyebrow at him, but failed horribly, and both of them were raised-all or nothing, right?-Magnus laughed, and Clary glared at him. "I _am_ eating something, you glittery idiot," Clary said, taking a big mouth full of coffee. "Coffee does not count as a food group, Clarissa," Magnus said, and Clary gave him an I-don't-care look. He gave up, and it was Isabelle's turn to nag her. _Great_. "Clary, if you don't eat I won't bring you shopping with me," Isabelle threatened.

Clary gasped. "Not the shopping," Clary said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at Isabelle. Clary was glad that Alec and Jace were invested in their own conversation, otherwise she'd have to listen to Alec's parental rant on why she needed to eat. "Clarissa Adele Fairchild," Isabelle began, her tone threatening. "If you don't eat something on your own, I will not restrain myself from shoving food down your throat with a spoon, got it?" Isabelle asked, cocking her head to the side, a sweet smile on her face. Clary stood up, and put her empty coffee mug in the sink, walking away from Isabelle and her threats. "Not hungry," Clary said to Isabelle over her shoulder, giving her a small, teasing wink as she walked upstairs. She could only imagine the steam coming out of Isabelle's ears, as she heard Magnus laughing.

-*#*-

Clary dressed herself that morning-thankfully. She put on a pair of dark-wash cut-off's-apparently she owned a lot of cut-off's-and a loose, black and white-stripped shirt. Over a bikini, of course; just in case Isabelle decided to rip her shirt off again, or she wanted to go swimming. Clary pulled on her green sneakers, as a final touch. She decided to not do anything with her mass of red curls, just to anger Isabelle. She smirked to herself. _You are awful, Clarissa Fairchild_ , she thought to herself.

She walked back down stairs, where Isabelle and Magnus were having what looked like an intense glare-off. "Hey, Iz," Clary waved. "You ready to go?" Isabelle smiled at her. "I'm rubbing off on you! Well, kind of, but still-that's better than not at all," Isabelle dumped her bowl into the sink. "Alec! You're on dishes duty!" She shouted over her shoulder. Alec groaned in response.

Magnus followed Isabelle, and Clary looked at him in question. He laughed and pointed to Alec and Jace. "You honestly expect me to spend my day with Alec and Goldie-Locks when shopping is an option?" Magnus laughed. "Hey!" Alec said, and Magnus turned to him. "Sorry, darling, but you know you're, friend," he looked disgustedly at Jace. "Is not much fun," and with that, Magnus followed the girls out the front door. "I disagree very much," Satan's offspring replied smoothly. Magnus scoffed. "Prove it," Magnus said. Jace got to his feet. "Fine," Magnus grinned evilly.

"You have to let us do your makeup," Magnus decides after a moment of thinking. The look of pure terror on Jace's terror as we approached him in sync was priceless. He stood his ground though, and shrugged. "That's not fun," he pointed out. "Maybe not for you," Magnus said. "But for us its like a goldmine of fun," Jace had thought he'd weaseled his way out of this one, but nope.

-*#*-

No matter how much Clary hated the guy, she had to admit, he was no wimp. But you should be when it comes to this equation; Isabelle+Magnus+fashion+glitter+makeup=bad things. Very bad things, just ask Jace.

He looked in the mirror at his reflection. He had his hair gelled up in spikes, that had a terrifying amount of glitter in it-maybe more than Magnus used in his own hair-and his cheeks were red, and bright. He had bright blue eye shadow on his eyes, and it looked tacky and ridiculous. On his lips, was some perfectly-applied red lipstick. Clary shivered. She was never using that same tube of lipstick again. "Iz, I hope you know that I will never let you use that lipstick on me. Ever again," Clary pointed out, as Isabelle tied a hot pink, feather boa around Jace's neck, and Clary couldn't help but wonder why Isabelle had brought a feather boa with her.

"Oh, don't worry," Isabelle said, lifting her head to look at Clary. "I'm going to burn everything we used on him in a fire tonight," she grinned. "That's why I didn't use my brushes." Clary cocked her head to the side, giving Isabelle a questioning look. "You're going to burn your fingers in a fire?" Isabelle laughed. "No, but I'm going to scrub them with some disinfectant wipes until they bleed," she said. Clary laughed. "Good idea," Clary said, watching Magnus apply some glitter eyeliner to Jace's closed eyes. "I wouldn't want you to catch Demon-Pox because of Satan's offspring," Clary knew that if Jace's eyes were open, they'd be sending a golden glare her way.

And then, just for good measure-even if he didn't see-she stuck her tongue at his reflection, and then flipped him off. "I saw that, Clarissa," he said. Clary scoffed. "Saw what, Jonathan?" Clary asked, innocently, as she crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against the wall. "You gave me the finger," he said simply. "I did no such thing," Clary shook her head. "Tell him, Magnus," Magnus looked at Clary and smirked, disapprovingly. "Its true; she did no such thing, but I suspect that there'll come a time when she will, and you will deserve it. Just for being your pompous ass self," Magnus finished, and Clary was tempted to applaud him. Isabelle nearly chocked to death on her saliva as she burst out laughing, dragging the lipstick across Jace's face. When Isabelle saw what she'd done, she fell to the floor, from where she kneeled next to Jace on the floor in their bedroom. Isabelle was laughing hysterically, and Jace's eyes flew open, and he screamed like a little girl, leaving Clary, Magnus and Isabelle laughing hysterically, and clutching their stomachs as they struggled to breath. Alec flung open the bedroom door.

"What is going on in here?" He demanded, but he too, fell victim to laughter, as he caught sight of Jace.. He clutched his stomach, as he leaned heavily against the door frame. Jace looked at himself in the mirror. "What did you do to me?" He asked, horrified. Magnus was the first to recover himself, as he pulled out his phone. "Jace," Magnus said, and Jace turned to look at Magnus, as Magnus took a picture of Jace. Satan's offspring seemed to have realized what he was doing, because he tackled Magnus to the floor. "Give me the phone," Jace demanded, Magnus laid there, saying nothing, as he clutched the phone tightly in his hand. The rest of them had managed to sit up, and stop laughing, gasping for breath. All of a sudden, Magnus spoke. "Clary," he said cautiously as Jace pinned Magnus to the floor. "Phone," he said, and tossed Clary the phone, she caught it easily, and looked innocently at Jace, who had his attention on Clary. "You won't tackle me; I'm a girl," she grinned, as she tapped away at Magnus' phone. "How do you know that?" Jace asked, still pinning Magnus to the floor. She smirked at him. "Because," she said. "If you do I'll send this picture to everyone at school, and trust me; Magus has _everybody's_ number," Jace growled at her, but she seemed unfazed. Clary heard her phone go off, and then Isabelle's, and then Alec's. "And plus," Clary added, her smirk turning into one of superiority. "Now we all have a copy of it."

Jace let out a string of profanities, some directed at Magnus, others directed at Clary, all the while she just laughed at him. "I really hate you," Jace said to Clary, who shrugged. "If you think I care, you're in need of a reality check," Clary tapped away at Magnus' phone, and everyone's phone's went off again. Jace got up off of Magnus, and walked over to Clary. He crouched down in front of her. "Give me the phone," he said. Clary pretended to think about it, and then spoke. "Isabelle," she said, and Jace gave her a confused look, as she threw the phone over his head. Isabelle caught it, and held it up to show Clary. He shot her a glare, as he stood up. Glitter rained down onto the floor.

He looked so ridiculous, that Clary nearly chocked on her saliva like Isabelle, as she laughed. He muttered something about redheads, and Clary vowed to the moon and stars that she would make him pay for that comment, as he went to the bathroom to wash off the makeup.

"So," Alec said. "What should we do now?" he finished. Magnus shrugged. "Well, I'll tell you what we need to do," Magnus said, making eye contact with everyone in the room, as he stood up. "Run. As fast as you can, because as soon as he looks normal again, he's going to come after us," Magnus warned, and Clary and Isabelle stood up like bullets shot. "So, run?" Magnus asked, as they heard the tap turning off. Everyone, including Alec nodded vigorously. "Run." Isabelle agreed, and they all ran out of the room as fast as possible.

-*#*-

Clary, Isabelle, Magnus, and Alec, ran out of the house in record time, following Clary who ran in the direction of the road. "Where are we going?" Alec panted. "Does it matter?" Isabelle asked, pushing hair out of her face. "As long as we're far away from Jace?" She added. "Not at all," Alec said, as they began running in the direction of some shops in the distance. Clary had to run twice as fast to keep up with everyone who had normal-length legs.

By the time they had gotten to the shops, they realized they'd made it into town, and that there were plenty of places to hide from Jace, so they went to a chip stand-that was as out of sight as possible, mind you-and each of them ordered a water, which were downed in less than two minutes. "I don't see him," Alec said, peeking around he corner of the building that blocked them from view. "Of course you don't see him," Isabelle hissed. "He's your best friend, shouldn't you know that he prefers sneak attacks more than all of us?" Alec sat back down at the picnic table, laying his head down on it. "How long does it usually take him to exact his revenge?" Isabelle asked of no one in particular. Alec looked up at his sister. "Sometimes he waits _days_ before doing anything," Alec looked terrified. "We can't go back to the house, then," Magnus said. "He won't wait days," Clary interjected. "Not knowing that we could send out that picture of him anytime we wanted," she shook her head. Magnus nodded, looking as if in deep thought. "You're right," Magnus said. "We need to keep moving," he said, standing up, nearly knocking the picnic table over.

The others agreed, and stood up, walking further down the street. They came across a small park, that was near empty, and Alec pulled them all to a pond, where ducks swam around, and walked. "Alec, what the Hell are you doing?" Isabelle demanded. "Stopping to feed the ducks?"

"No," Alec said. "Jace hates ducks," he grinned. "So, even if he does find us, he won't come anywhere _near_ us," Magnus smiled at his boyfriend, and kissed him on the cheek, making Alec blush. "Good thinking," Clary said, sitting down on a bench near the pond, her legs aching. Isabelle sat down beside her, and pulled her long, inky hair into a pony-tale. She nudged Clary in the ribs, with her elbow. Clary looked up at Isabelle, from where he eyes rested on her sneakers. "You are smart," Isabelle grinned. Clary tried to raise an eyebrow, but ended up raising both. "Thanks?" she said, unsurely. "I mean, like, by sending that picture to all of us," Isabelle explained. "Oh," Clary said, and nodded. "Thanks."

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and looked at the screen. She had a text message, and the contact name read; _Satan's offspring_. "I got a text from Jace," Clary said, and Isabelle looked down at the phone, eagerly. Clary read the text out loud. "'Where are you?'" she read. Clary tried to think of a clever reply. "What about, 'Hell'?" Clary suggested. Isabelle nodded, and not a minute later a reply came. "'I already knew that, Ginger, now really, where are you?'" Clary frowned at the screen. Isabelle tapped on Clary's arm, and pointed to the duck pond. "Send him a picture," she said, and Clary snapped a picture of a line of baby ducks. She sent the picture to Jace, followed by the text; _Hell, I told you_. There was no reply, but it showed that Jace had read the text, and Clary could only imagine Jace standing, paralyzed by fear. _You doubt me? I thought you'd have learned by now_ , Clary texted again. "'Why are you around a pond full of blood thirsty little beasts?'" The Clary read aloud to Isabelle. They both laughed loudly, grabbing the attention of some passerby, who gave them looks as if to say _are you crazy?_ But that didn't stop the laughter that erupted from the two girls.

"Oh, what about; building an army?" Isabelle suggested, and Clary typed it out, and pressed send. "'Why would you be doing that?'" Was the reply. "So I can kill you first, before you kill us," Clary read her text to Isabelle. She nodded her approval, and Clary clicked send. There was no reply this time.

Magnus and Alec found their way over to the bench after Magnus had his fun with the ducks-he tried to be-glitter one of them, but it didn't work out. "What was the all the laughing for?" Alec asked, as they stood in front of Clary and Isabelle. Clary handed him her phone. "Read them," she instructed. Magnus leaned over Alec's shoulder, so he could read them, too. It only took a few minutes before Magnus and Alec started laughing-though not as hard as Isabelle and Clary had. "Do you think he'll find us?" Clary asked, and Isabelle shrugged. "I think he already did," Alec said, and pointed to a dirt path that wound its way into the park. And sure enough, walking towards them was a golden head. "So, um, run?" Magnus asked Alec, who was watching Jace get closer, and closer. "Yeah, run," Alec said, as Clary and Isabelle stood up. They all bolted in the opposite direction of Jace, which led them back the way they came in. "If we could get t the house," Isabelle said, as she ran. "We could lock him out."

"Good idea," Magnus winked at her. Clary couldn't help but wonder how on earth these people were having a normal conversation, meanwhile she was trying not to focus on the fact that Jace had been on the school's track team the year before, and could easily catch up to them. "Guys," Clary said. "You know he was on the track team?" Isabelle turned to look at her. "So?" Alec looked at her incredulously as he ran. "Jace was the best runner at our school," he said. Isabelle seemed to understand this time, as she shifted up her speed, followed by Clary who was trying to keep up on her-unfortunately-short legs. And for probably the billionth time, Clary cursed her shortness.

"Short legs over here, guys," Clary said as the group began to get ahead of her. Magnus looked back at her, as he stopped running, and then walked to where she stood. "Get on," he said, as he bent down, his back to her. Clary wrapped her les tightly around him, and held tightly to his shoulders, as he began to run. Clary couldn't help but giggle at the odd stares she got from people in town, as they assed shops, and finally the chip stand. They all stopped, and took a well deserved break for a few minutes, before resuming their rapid pace, as they ran through town. It felt like forever to Clary before the beach was finally visible again, and the beach house. "Tally ho!" Clary shouted, and Magnus let out a low chuckle, as he ran towards the house.

Clary could tell that it was harder to run in the sand, since it wasn't really firm underneath your feet, and it didn't help that Alec and Isabelle had chosen to wear sandal. But, of course, they probably hadn't anticipated having to run for their life.

When the reached the house, Clary hopped down, off of Magnus' back, and opened the front door of the house. Isabelle and Alec had come up behind her, waiting for her to go inside, but she just stood there with the door opened a little bit. "Are you going to go inside, Clary?" Isabelle asked, impatiently. "I hear something," she said, holding up a hand to silence Isabelle. Alec stepped in front of her, and listened for a moment to what sounded like someone having a conversation. He stepped inside the house, slowly, and quietly. He put a finger to his lips, to tell Clary, Isabelle-and now Magnus-who stood behind him, to be quiet. They followed him inside, as quietly as possible. When they reached the kitchen, where the sound was the loudest, they all stopped, and watched the sight before them as they tried not to laugh.

There in the kitchen, wearing only a pair of jogging pants, was Jace. He was holding a spatula in his left hand, with his eyes squeezed shut, tightly, as music came through the speaker of his phone, he pretended to be having a concert. Clary tapped Isabelle and motioned for her to get out her phone. Isabelle nodded, and pulled it out, and started taking a video. Clary bit down on her lip as hard as she could to keep herself from laughing. Jace was dancing around the kitchen, singing along-horribly-to some parts of the song. He jumped up and down, and slid across the floor in his socks. Every time he moved, Clary could see the lean muscle of his arms and stomach. She knew Jace was built, but not _that_ built; he almost had an eight-pack, if that's even possible. She had seen him shirtless before-when they went swimming-but she hadn't really paid him much attention.

When the song finished, Jace opened his eyes, to see them all trying to hide behind the counter. His face turned beet red, and Clary swore that was the first time she had ever seen Jace Herondale _blush_. And the best part? They got it all on video.

Isabelle quickly ended the video, and shut off her phone, shoving back into her pocket. Clary stood up, and gave him an odd look. She pointed the stairs. "So, we're just going to, um, you know," she said, as they all stood up. "Run," she finished, as she tugged at Isabelle 's arm pulling her towards the stairs. She adjusted her grip on Isabelle's arm, so that she held Isabelle's wrist tightly. She pulled Isabelle up the stairs as fast as she could, followed by Alec and Magnus pushing them, and Clary almost tripping three times, because of this. They separated, at the top of stairs, as Magnus pulled Alec into their bedroom, while Clary tugged Isabelle to theirs.

Clary was in the room first, releasing her hold on Isabelle's wrist. Isabelle locked the door behind herself, and leaned against it, while Clary sprawled herself out on her bed, like a star fish. Isabelle slid down the door, so she was sitting on the floor, and she rested her head against her legs. Isabelle began laughing. "Did you _see_ his face?" She laughed. "It was as red as my hair," Clary giggled back. "What time is it?" Isabelle asked, pulling out her phone. "Huh, its already two," Isabelle frowned at the screen. "Is it?" Clary propped herself up on her forearm, and looked at Isabelle. Isabelle nodded. "So what do you want to do now?" Isabelle asked. Clary raised her eyebrows at Isabelle. "Seriously? We probably just ran about three kilometres, and you want to do something other than lay around?" Clary looked at her in disbelief.

"What about, when we have a fire later, we go swimming?" Isabelle asked excitedly. Clary shrugged. "You're going to make me do it anyways, so what does it matter?" Isabelle thought about this, and the smiled at her. "You're right, but we still need to build a fire pit," Isabelle stood up. She walked over to Clary, and began to pull her up by the wrist. Clary groaned. "No," she said. "Fine by me," Isabelle said, and pulled on both of Clary's ankles, dragging her across the small bed, and onto the floor. Clary landed with a loud, _thump_. Clary once again propped herself up on her forearm, but this time she glared up at Isabelle. "Consider that my revenge," Isabelle said. Clary rolled her eyes at Isabelle, and stood up.

-*#*-

"I think we should put it right here," Isabelle said, drawing a circle in the sand with a stick. They stood on the beach, and Clary was waiting for Isabelle to explain. "Whatever, Iz," Clary said. Isabelle clapped her hands together. "Alright, now we just need to get some rocks," she said. Isabelle began looking around for rocks, followed by a reluctant Clary.

There was a few rocks in the grass, so they grabbed those, and brought them to the soon-to-be fire pit. The outline was starting to from in the shape of a large circle, and soon they had to farther to find rocks than before. There wasn't much conversation between the two, besides when Isabelle kept dropping the rocks she had in her arms, and she wouldn't stop cursing at them. All the while, Clary laughed. Isabelle glared at her, as she placed the final rocks on the outline for the fire pit. "Looks nice, Izzy," Clary complimented. "I hope so, because I only dropped, like, sixteen rocks to make it," Isabelle said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now," she started. "Getting wood, and building the fire, is the boys' job," Izzy declared, and started back towards the house. Clary caught up to her, just as she went up the front steps. "Thanks for waiting," Clary said sarcastically. "My pleasure," Isabelle said as she stepped inside the house.

Clary was about to step inside the house, when Isabelle was yanked from where she stood. "Izzy?" Clary asked, and she heard a muffled noise that sounded like Isabelle screaming, so she tentatively stepped inside the house. She looked to her right, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. And then, she looked to her left...

There stood Jace, pinning Isabelle to the wall, a pillow over her mouth. "Give me your phone Isabelle," he said in a warning tone. Clary wasn't quite sure what to do at the moment, so she stood there, and watched as Isabelle tried to kick Jace where the sun don't shine. He easily blocked her. Clary knew that Jace wasn't afraid of her, so she had to call for desperate measures. "Alexander Gideon Lightwood!" She shouted up the stairs. "Come put a leash on your damn dog!" Alec appeared at the top of the staircase a moment later with a questioning look on his face. "What are you talking about?" He asked, and Clary angrily motioned to Jace, who was pinning Isabelle to the wall.

"He's your best friend, isn't he?" Clary asked, as Alec walked down the stairs. "Sadly," Alec replied, as he walked beside Clary to Jace and Isabelle. "Jace," Alec said, in an annoyed tone. "Let go of my sister," Alec warned. Jace turned to him. "Not until she deletes that video," Jace said. "Maybe if you let her go, she might actually be able to move her arms," Clary pointed out. Jace seemed to realize the flaw in his plan, and let Isabelle go, taking the pillow off her mouth. She flipped him off. "That time, you deserved it," Magnus added from the top of the stairs. "Delete the video," Jace said in a low, angry voice. Isabelle pulled out her phone, as if to actually delete the video, and then tossed it to Clary, who caught it after almost dropping it. "Again with this?" Jace asked, turning to Clary. Clary shrugged at him. "You started it," she said simply.

Jace resigned, and headed upstairs, slamming his bedroom door. "Should we be worried?" Clary asked. Isabelle scoffed. "If tries anything like that again I'll skin him alive with my stiletto."

* * *

 **I'm really sorry about how long it took to update, I've just been really focused on my other story, and making sure the plot is written right.**

 **Anyways, I know that's a lousy excuse, so I'm going to try and update more. I hope that this chapter didn't royally suck, because I'm having a little trouble writing-writer's block, again *groan***

 **So, yeah.**

 **REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**


	8. Jace's Revenge-Part Two

Clary sat on a piece of drift wood, that she'd dragged over by the fire pit, where Isabelle was cursing at the fire pit, and pieces of wood, because she couldn't get the fire started. Magnus _tsk_ ed. He pulled the light out of Isabelle's hand, and began dumping something over the fire pit, that came out a red, plastic container. Best guess? Gas; but mostly because of the signature smell that gas had, and this smelled exactly like it. Clary had her head propped up on her hands, which were being supported by her thighs. "Where did you get gas?" Alec asked, as he sat down beside Clary, holding a beer in one hand, and Clary eyed it enviously. But, _no_ , Alec wouldn't allow. Magnus turned to Alec, a grin on his face, as fire finally caught onto the wood, and lit a small part of the area that surrounded them. It made the glitter in Magnus' hair sparkle, almost like a disco ball. Clary laughed at the thought. "I like fire," Magnus shrugged, sitting down on the other side of Clary, squishing her even more. "Where's Jace?" Isabelle asked, as she glared at Magnus, who had had no trouble lighting the fire. "Is he pouting because we were picking on him?" Isabelle asked in a baby-ish voice.

"No," said a voice that most certainly didn't belong to anyone already outside. "He is not pouting; he was trying to get the rest of the glitter out of his hair," Jace sat down beside Alec on the piece of driftwood, squishing Clary even more. Clary shot up, and crossed her arms over her chest, as she stood beside Isabelle. "Did you bring the stuff outside?" Clary asked, referring to their "sacrifices" that they planned on burning in the fire. These "sacrifices" included the tube of red lipstick that had been used on Jace-and ruined, in the process-Isabelle's hot pink, feather boa, a small container of Magnus' glitter-which he hadn't given up without a fight-and one of Clary's old drawings that she'd ripped out of her sketch pad. "Of course I did," Isabelle says. "We'll burn them, after we go swimming," Clary groans, but can't hold back a laugh.

"We're going swimming," Isabelle announces. "Anyone want to join?" Isabelle pulls her shirt over her head, and Clary panics for a moment, but calmed down once she realized that Isabelle was wearing her favourite red bikini top. She throws the shirt at Alec, who fumbles with it a moment, before managing to pull it off of him. "I'm in," Jace says, surprising almost everyone. "I don't see why not," Magnus says. "Come on, Alexander, darling," pulling Alec up with him. "I'm really hoping you are all wearing swim shorts?" Clary asks, covering her eyes with her hand.

"Why, Red? You know you want to see my birthday suit," Jace teases, giving her a suggestive smirk, even though her eyes are closed. Clary feels heat rushing to her cheeks, just imagining the stupidly attractive smirk on Jace's face that managed to trap all females in his web. "Yes, Biscuit," Magnus says. "We're all wearing swim shorts," and Clary uncovers her eyes. Magnus is wearing a pair of glittery, rainbow swim shorts, while Alec wears a black pair. Her eyes travel to Jace, who is only wearing his boxers. She turns beet red, and lets out a squeak of surprise. Clary quickly turns away, as Isabelle pulls off her shorts, showing off the ruby-coloured bottoms to her bikini. "Clary?" Isabelle asks. "You coming?" Clary looks over at Isabelle, and nods slowly, trying to get her blush to dissipate. Clary pulled her top over her head, and could feel eyes burning holes into her back, where the strings of her bikini tied together. She self-consciously pulled down her cut-off's, revealing her whole emerald-coloured bikini, that made her eyes pop. Well, they would, if you could see her eyes in the dark. Which, admittedly, would be pretty scary. Clary cleared her throat. "Ready?" She asks, turning around to face Alec, Magnus, and Jace, Isabelle beside her. Jace had an arrogant smirk on his face that Clary was fully prepared to slap off, until Isabelle broke into a run, and began pulling Clary to the water-which was only a small distance away from where they'd built the fire. Clary stumbled over her feet, as Isabelle dragged her. "Isabelle, don't break my biscuit," Magnus warned, and Clary couldn't help that her mind wandered to the gutter. Apparently, so did Isabelle's, as she stopped running, and turned to face him, her eyes wide, and a crooked smirk on her face. "What?" She asked, with a small giggle on the end. Magnus seemed to have realized what he'd said, and pointed an accusing finger at Isabelle. "Head out of the gutter, Miss Lightwood," he warned. "I was referring to dear, Clarissa. She looks like she'd afraid you'll kill her," Clary tries to pull free of Isabelle's grip, but like usual, its an iron grip.

"Izzy," Clary says. "You can let me go. I won't run away," Clary says, trying to pull her wrist free, and suddenly she is free. Isabelle had both her hands at her side. "Whatever," Isabelle dismissed the conversation. She walked to the water, followed by Clary, Alec and Magnus. Clary noticed Jace was missing, as they got out deeper, and began swimming around. "Guys, where's Satan's offspring?" Clary asked, using his well-known nickname over his real name. Alec shrugged. "Not sure, he probably ran into a girl or something."

Clary figured that was a good enough answer, and walked out deeper. The water was cool and refreshing against her bare legs, as some of it splashed up to her hips. Clary was waist-deep, which was only hip-deep for Isabelle, who was standing beside her, looking at the moon, which was bright white, and a full circle. Clary looked at it, itching for her sketch pad and pencils, as she felt something grab her legs. Clary kicked at it, and felt it go away. She relaxed again, but felt it again this time, stronger. It didn't feel like a weed at all, and Clary thought maybe it was a fish. "Iz, there's something trying to grab me," Clary said, looking into the water. She couldn't see a thing, because it was so dark out, so the water looked like clean black. If that even _was_ a thing. Isabelle raised a curious eyebrow at her. "Its probably just a piece of persistent seaweed," Isabelle said. "Now, come on, lets go out deeper," Clary and Isabelle walked until the water was just past the top of Clary's bikini top, while it only reached about three-fourths of the way up Isabelle's stomach. She looked back at Alec and Magnus, to see them kissing. Clary didn't much like PDA, so she quickly looked away.

Then, Clary felt it again, the feeling like something was grabbing at her. This time it was at her hips. Clary used her hands to swat at whatever it was, but felt nothing. _Maybe it_ is _just a weed, or my imagination_ , Clary thought. She brushed it off again, and dove under the water, breaking the water's surface, sending small ripples through it.

Clary came back up, and brushed hair that stuck to her face away, opening her eyes.

Clary felt it again, grabbing more insistently at her hips. Clary squirmed, and kicked and swatted at whatever it was. The feeling was gone, and she felt nothing in the water around her. _I'm loosing my mind_ , Clary thought, as Isabelle went under water. Isabelle came back up, smiling as she wiped water away from her eyes. "This was a really good idea," Isabelle says. Clary squirmed, as whatever it was grabbed at her waist. "Iz, there is definitely something trying to grab me," Clary said, moving away from where she had just stood. "There is nothing in the water, otherwise I would've felt it, too," Isabelle said, a -don't-be-ridiculous tone of voice that Clary didn't appreciate. "Maybe it wants to eat me because I'm the smallest, the easiest to catch _and_ digest," Clary pointed out. Isabelle laughed, as Clary felt something grab her waist in a firm hold. "Izzy!" Clary squeaked. "Something grabbed me!" Clary began panicking, thrashing and kicking at whatever it was.

She felt like she was being pulled under, and tried to grab at something, but found only water. Clary kicked violently at whatever was holding her, and she felt her legs connect with some hard, and oddly fleshy-feeling. Clary closed her mouth, as she was pulled under all at once, she squirmed in the hold the _thing_ had on her. Clary felt herself being held in place by hands, feeling the fingers move, but thought for a second that maybe that a fish had grown some fingers. Clary kicked again, her leg connecting with something again, and instantly she was released. She swam to the surface of the water, gasping for air. Clary coughed into her elbow, some water coming up. She grimaced at it, and turned away. Something came up a moment after her. Clary was still coughing, but froze when she saw the golden hair, that was turning a slightly silver shade in the moonlight.

"You kicked me," he said, and Clary gaped at him. "You scared me to death!" Clary squeaked, out raged at Jace. "Did I?" Jace asked, sounding innocent, but Clary could see the somewhat endearing smirk on his face. "I thought something was going to kill me!" Clary's voice was hoarse, as she coughed again. She couldn't stop coughing, and felt Jace watching her, but a moment later, felt a hand on her back. She looked up at the body attached to the hand, to see none other than Satan's offspring. He looked concerned, as he tentatively rubbed her back. Clary coughed up some more water, her hand on her stomach. After coughing up that bout of water, she was able to stop coughing.

Clary looked up into Jace's eyes, that looked like pure gold in that moment. She found herself wanting to pull him towards her, but snapped out of it, realizing who she was thinking about. "Thanks," Clary said. He nodded. Clary looked up at the sky, there was millions of stars in the sky, and each of them was beautiful, as they shone brightly down on Clary and Jace.

She could hear Isabelle talking to Alec and Magnus in the distance, whispering to each other. Clary didn't bother trying to ease drop, as she watched the stars twinkle. They were so pretty, and she felt the familiar itch to have her sketch pad and pencils and start drawing the night sky. Jace was still standing behind her, and she could feel his eyes on her. Clary felt self-conscious, and wrapped her arms around her waist, even though Jace was looking at her back, and not her front. "Clary!" Isabelle called, and Clary turned around, breaking her focus on the stars. "Come on! we're going to go burn stuff!" Isabelle loved fire, that Clary knew from experience, when they went camping with their class-let's just say Isabelle almost caught the whole forest on fire.

Clary walked back to the shore, where Isabelle had waited, while Alec and Magnus were ahead of them. "I feel like he's undressing me with his eyes," Clary whispered to Isabelle. Isabelle looked back at Jace, who was walking towards them, his focus on Clary. "That's because he totally _is_ ," Isabelle whispered back, with a smirk. Clary shivered, as they walked down the beach, closer to the fire.

Clary could feel the heat radiating from the flames, an smiled, as she closed her eyes. Clary opened her eyes, and Isabelle was passing out things to burn. Jace was standing beside her, and Clary felt the urge to move away from him, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction knowing that he had made her uncomfortable-which he definitely was. Isabelle walked over to them, she handed Jace the bottle of Magnus' glitter, and Clary the pink feather boa. Alec had Clary's drawing, while Magnus had the tube of red lipstick. "On the count of three, throw them in the fire," Isabelle said.

"One," Isabelle counted, as Clary approached the fire. "Two," Isabelle grinned, the grin that told Clary something she wouldn't like was going to happen. "Three!" Isabelle shouted, and as Magnus and Alec threw the lipstick and drawing into the fire, Clary threw in the feather boa, and Jace threw in the bottle of glitter. Magnus looked sad, but made no move to grab the bottle of glitter out of the fire-thankfully. Clary didn't quite understand what Isabelle had been grinning about, but she was thankful nothing had happened.

Clary grabbed her shorts, and pulled them on, sitting down in the sand. She had sat as far away from Jace as possible, because he was making her feel very uncomfortable tonight, and she didn't quite feel like being undressed by his eyes again. Clary was sitting in front of the fire, on the opposite side of Jace. Isabelle was fascinated with watching everything they'd thrown into the fire burn, as she sat in between Alec and Magnus on the piece of driftwood.

-*#*-

They had sat outside for a while now, at least three hours. Isabelle had retired shortly after the fire started to die down, saying she was bored, and going to bed. So, that left Alec and Magnus-who were kissing at the moment, and Clary and Jace, who were watching the fire in silence. "Jesus," Jace finally spoke up. "Get a room."

Alec broke away from Magnus, sheepishly, and rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling a quick, _sorry_ , and pulling Magnus into the house. Leaving Clary and Jace to sit on the sand and stare at the fire. About a half hour had passed since Magnus and Alec had went inside, and Clary found herself yawning. She stood up, brushing sand off her shorts, and grabbed her shirt. Clary gave Jace a parting wave, before disappearing into the house, leaving Jace to sit in front of the fire.

XXX

Clary tossed and turned, but she couldn't get comfortable. She wasn't even tired anymore. Clary sat up in bed, frustrated and angry that she couldn't will herself to sleep. She looked at the clock; 3:14 a.m. She was wearing a graphic t-shirt, that had been a gift from Simon, on it, in all capital letters, was _Made In Brooklyn_. It was one of her favourite shirts, but Isabelle never let her wear it out, so now, it was used for pajamas. Clary had on a pair of black shorts that were kind of loose in the leg area.

Clary slipped on her sneakers, and grabbed her sketch pad, and pencils, before quietly leaving her room, as to not wake up Isabelle-who was sleeping soundly.

Clary tip-toed down the stairs, careful not to make any noise, as she opened the front door, and closed it.

The moon was full, and the stars shining brightly down on her. The fire was only a pit of dying embers, now, but Clary thought it was even prettier than when it was flaming. She sat down on the piece of driftwood, and opened her pencils up. Clary began drawing the moon and stars, getting lost in the drawing, just the way she loved to.

* * *

Clary was just adding the finishing touches to the drawing, shading the moon a little bit more, when someone sat down beside her. She swore her heart stopped beating for a minute, as it got caught in her throat. Clary stopped drawing, and looked beside her.

Sitting beside her on the driftwood, was Jace. He was looking at her sketch pad, as Clary put a hand to her chest, and tried to calm her racing heart. "I thought everyone was asleep," Clary finally said, as she took her hand away from her chest. "I never went inside," Jace replied, looking up at the sky. "Why not?" Clary asked, as she watched the flickering embers of the fire. Jace looked over at her, and shrugged. "I wasn't tired. What's your excuse?"

"I couldn't sleep," Clary sighed, still frustrated that she hadn't been able to sleep. Her mind had been racing in a million different directions. She shrugged. "And don't you dare give me the 'you're only seventeen and should be asleep by three a.m.' speech," Clary warned, pointing a pencil at his chest. "Because I am almost eighteen," Clary added for good measure. She would be turning eighteen on August twenty-third, and Isabelle had already started planning the party. Jace laughed in a low voice. The light from the embers of the fire made his hair look even more golden than it already did. "Wait," Clary said, looking away from her sketch pad. "You weren't out here when I came out," Clary said, accusingly. "I went for a walk," Jace said, as he watched the stars twinkle. "And I may or may not have been almost eaten alive by ducks."

Clary laughed. "Ducks?" He looked at her, his face serious, along with his tone. "Ducks." he said. "Whatever you say," Clary said under her breath, as she continued shading the moon. "You know," Jace said. "You're a pretty good artist," Jace remarked, as he moved closer to her, looking over her shoulder at the drawing. Clary turned away from him slightly, and shut the sketch pad. She looked down at her sneakers. She shrugged. "Not really," Clary said. Jace looked at her incredulously. "Only someone incredibly stupid wouldn't be able to see how good you are," Jace said, and Clary looked at him. "Really?" She asked. "Yeah," Jace replied. "Because I believe that in art class, you said, and I quote, 'I've seen a person without hands do better than that,'" Clary finished, giving him an accusing look.

He held his hands up in defense. "I never said that I wasn't incredibly stupid," Clary rolled her eyes. "Well, I remember that one time at a party when you said-" Clary was cut off when Jace pressed his lips to hers. She sat frozen for a moment, before she completely melted into him. It was impossible not to; his lips were warm and soft. He wrapped his arms around Clary's waist, and held her tightly to him. He pulled away from her, and she sat there, breathless, her eyes wide. "Shut up," he said, and kissed her again.

* * *

After what felt like hours, but Clary knew was only minutes, she pulled away from Jace. The eyes that she had learn to recognize as tawny, were the colour of molten gold. She felt like any words she wanted to say had been ripped away from her, along with her breath. Clary looked down at her hands, and then pulled them back up to meet Jace's, looking at him through her lashes.

They sat in silence. Neither of them saying anything. But Clary didn't know _what_ to say. So, there she sat, as an uneasy silence fell over them. Finally, when the last embers of the fire died, and there was only a black pit in front of them, Clary spoke. "I should get to bed," she stood up, grabbing her sketch pad and pencils. Clary quickly brushed the sand off of her, and walked as fast as she could into the house. She didn't wait to hear a reply, because she knew she wouldn't get one.

Clary walked over to the fireplace in the living room, where there was, too, a dark pit of ash and dead coals. She leaned her back against the wall beside it, taking deep breaths, as she slowly slid down the wall.

* * *

 **I loved writing this chapter *happy squeal***

 **I finally was able to get over my writer's block for this story, which is great. It feels amazing!**

 **So, yeah. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!**


	9. And I Hate It

"Biscuit?" Magnus' voice broke the barrier of sleep that surrounded Clary. She lifted her slowly, feeling a dull-but fiery-ache in her neck from how she'd slept. Magnus put his hand on her arm, and looked at her worriedly. "Are you alright?"

Clary didn't know if she was okay; she'd kissed Jace. The one person she despised most in the world. Would she ever be okay? Was she loosing her mind? Clary had slept with her head against her knees, while her arms were wrapped around her legs. Clary tried to stretch out her neck, but it made the dull ache flame up. "Not really," Clary managed, as Magnus pulled her to her feet. Her legs felt weak, and numb. Probably because she hadn't moved since she fell asleep. Magnus let her go, and she almost fell over. He caught her, and held onto her this time. He looked worried. "Biscuit, what's wrong?" Magnus asked. Clary almost blurted out that she'd kissed Jace, but figured it might be better if she kept that to herself. But maybe it had been a dream? But then Clary saw her sketch pad open at the drawing she'd done last night, and knew everything that had happened was real. Clary rubbed at her eyes, her hands feeling heavy.

"I went outside to draw last night," Clary said. "And I came back inside, and sat by the fireplace. I guess I fell asleep," Clary shrugged, feeling returning to her legs. Magnus nodded. "Well, I think I know what'll make you feel better. A coffee," Magnus gave her a warm smile, and brought her to the kitchen.

Sitting on a barstool, was Isabelle, who sat beside Alec. On the third barstool, was Jace. Isabelle turned, and looked at her. "You look awful," Isabelle remarked. Clary gave her a look, as if to say no, really? "Gee, thanks, Iz," Clary leaned against the opposite counter than Jace, as Magnus poured some coffee into one of the biggest mugs she'd ever seen. Magnus handed her the mug, and she looked at the liquid. Black. Just the way she liked it. Clary took a big mouthful, and swallowed it. "I found her asleep by the fireplace," Magnus informed them. Isabelle gave Clary a questioning look, but said nothing. "Why were you sleeping by the fireplace?" Alec asked, looking up at her from his bowl of cereal. "Because I was cold," Clary said sarcastically. Alec held his hands up in defense. "Someone's on edge this morning," Isabelle remarked. Clary gave her an annoyed smile. "Really? Maybe its because my neck feels like its on fire every time I move it?"

Clary took another long drink of coffee. "If you're going to be like this all day I am not taking you shopping," Isabelle warned. "This feels like déjà vu," Clary remarked dryly. "That's because we went through this yesterday," Alec pointed out. "Well, Izzy," Clary began. "I am not going shopping with you and Magnus, so just make sure you buy more coffee."

"I'm going too," Alec piped up. "Well, then, make sure I get my coffee," Clary said, and drained the last of her coffee.

"Or what?" Alec asked. Clary grinned at him. "Or else I'll be like this everyday. All day." Alec, Isabelle and Magnus all looked terrified, while Jace laughed at them under his breath. "And that's why I need coffee. Did I get my point across?" Clary asked, her eyes going around the room. "You certainly did, biscuit," Magnus answered for all of them. "Good." Clary set her coffee mug down on the counter, and went into the living room to grab her sketch pad and pencils.

* * *

Clary remembered the first day they'd gotten here-given, it was only a few days ago, but it felt like so much longer. When she'd seen the beautiful scenery, and flowers, and promised herself she'd draw them before summer ended. So, that's what she was doing. At the moment, she was drawing the flowers. There was a certain one that seemed to be the centerpiece of them all; a purple flower, with pointy petals, on the bottom, that went up in layers, until the top was just a bunch of petals. Clary was really trying to focus on that more so than any of the other ones, and she had to admit, the drawing was turning out nicely.

"Bye, Biscuit," Magnus ruffled her hair a little bit as he passed by. Clary smiled up at him. "Bye, Izzy, Alec," Clary said as they passed by. They gave waves, as they walked further away, in the direction of the town.

Clary went back to drawing. She began shading the edges of the flower, in a darker purple than the rest of it. After shading, Clary began filling in the flower, just like a colouring book. The lavender purple was almost an exact match to the real colour, but there was just something about the flower that Clary couldn't capture, and she wasn't sure what it was. She must have been so focused on her drawing that she hadn't heard anyone come outside. "I'm going for a swim, want to join?" Jace asked. Clary stopped drawing for a moment, but continued after the momentary shock passed. "Busy," Clary said, trying to dismiss him. But, he sat down beside her in the grass. "The flowers will still be here later," Jace said. Clary looked at him for a moment, but then back to her drawing. "Why can't you go swimming on your own? I'm sure girls would be happy to crowd around you," Clary said, half-distractedly, as she began drawing the other flowers around the purple one. Jace let out a laugh. "I am innately attractive.

Clary raised her eyebrows at him, as she tried to raise one. "Really? I don't see it," Clary looked up at him. He looked down at her. "That's because you're so low to the ground," Clay smacked him with her sketch pad. The sound of her sketch pad making contact with his skin was oddly satisfying. He made a noise of surprise, and frowned at Clary. "What was that for?" He asked. "There was a bug," Clary said sarcastically.

"Are you sure that wasn't just an attempt to touch me?" Jace smirked down at her. "Positive," Clary replied. "Aren't you supposed to be swimming?" Clary asked before Jace could say anything else on the previous topic. "I suppose," he said. "But I think I'll just stay here."

"If I go swimming with you, will you leave me alone for the rest of the day?" Clary asked, feeling defeated. He grinned at her. "Absolutely," he pulled her to her feet. Clary walked up the stairs to the house. "Where are you going?" Jace asked. "Bathing suit," Clary replied, opening the door and going inside.

Clary raced up the steps to her room, and shut the doo behind herself. Clary went through her suitcase, looking for a bathing suit. She found the sky blue one-piece that tied behind the neck, and decided to wear that one. Clary stripped down, and then pulled on the bathing suit. Clary tried to tie the straps around the back of her neck, and actually prevailed. There was no hair caught in the knot, and she smiled proudly at herself. Clary slipped a pair of white shorts over her bathing suit, lathered on some sunscreen, and grabbed a towel before heading back outside.

-*#*-

Jace was waiting for her, right where she left him. He smirked at her, and Clary felt herself involuntarily shiver. Clary walked past him, towards the beach. He caught up to her quickly, having longer legs than she did. "You don't enjoy my company, Red?" Jace asked, giving her a fake pout. Clary rolled her eyes. "I don't think you realize that you are much more enjoyable to have around you are when you aren't making annoying comments," Clary pointed out, which left him dumbfounded. When they reached the beach, Clary unfolded her towel, laying it over the sand. Jace had forgotten to bring a towel, and he mentally scolded himself. Clary turned to Jace, "see, you're being quiet. I like you better already," Clary grinned at him. He glared at the back of her head as she turned away to look at the water.

There was a good amount of people swimming today, and they were all laughing, and having fun. Of course, there was a few old men, who had very hairy chests, and large beer guts, making Clary cringe, and look away. Clary felt hands wrap around her waist, and someone rest their head on her shoulder. She knew instantly that it was Jace. "That's what I'll look like when I'm older," he whispered in her ear, his breath on her skin made her tingle. Clary turned her head around to look at him. "I doubt it," Clary scoffed, and broke free of his grasp. "I thought you wanted to go swimming?"

"I do," Jace said, and kicked off his flip-flops. Clary pealed off her shorts, and threw them on top of her towel. Clary crossed her arms over her chest, as she turned to look back at the water. "And you're coming with me," Jace said, as he stood in front of Clary. Clary looked at him, daring him to do something, and he did it anyways. Jace picked her up with ease, and threw her over his shoulder. "Jace! What are you doing?" Clary demanded, as Jace walked into the water. "Going swimming, I thought that would be evident," Jace said innocently. "And that required you picking me up, why?"

Clary felt Jace laughing underneath of her. He didn't answer her, so Clary spoke again. "Will you put me down?" Clary's tone was annoyed, as she got curious looked from other people in the lake. Clary watched as the water got deeper, and soon the water was three-fourths of the way up Jace's stomach, and she felt her feet getting wet. "If I put you down now, the water would be up to your neck," Jace pointed out. "Where are you going?" Clary asked, as Jace walked further and further away from the beach. Clary turned her head as much as she could to look where Jace was going. "There's a dock we can jump off of," Clary propped her head up and her hand, that was resting on an angle against Jace's back.

Clary gave up on asking Jace to put her down, and waited impatiently until they got to the dock, and Jace sat her down on it. The water hadn't gotten much deeper, but Clary was sure it would be over her head, if she stood flat on the bottom. It barely touched Jace's neck, as he stood flat on the bottom. Clary huffed out her breath, and cursed her shortness. "Why are you just standing there?" Clary asked, watching as Jace stood pretty much still in the water. He shrugged, sending ripples through the water. "Do need someone to grab when you jump off?" He inquired, and Clary glared at him. "Do you really think I can't swim?" Clary asked, as she grabbed onto the edge of the dock, feeling it move with the water.

"Can you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, and smirking at her slightly. Clary used the hand hold on the dock she had to push herself off. She sunk down in the water, and floated back up, wiping water from her eyes. She was kicking in the water, to keep herself floating. "I can, thank you very much," Clary answered his question. She grabbed onto the dock again, and turned away from Jace, pulling herself back up onto the dock, and sitting so that she could dangle her feet in the water. Jace walked over to the dock, and pulled himself up, too. He was standing near the edge. He walked over to Clary, and pulled her up, so she was standing too. "Jump," he said, once they were standing near the edge of the dock. Clary gave him a peculiar look, but said nothing, as Jace jumped into the water. There was a big splash, and then he resurfaced a moment later.

Clary did a cannonball, but barely any water splashed up. Clary broke through the surface of the water again, and found that she was close to Jace. Very close. He wrapped his arms around her waist, as Clary blinked some water out of her eyes. Somehow, Clary found that she was wrapping her arms round Jace's neck, as he leaned in to her, closing the small gap between them. Clary was being held up in the water by Jace, otherwise the water would be a few inches above her head. He finally closed the gap between them, and Clary's eyes fluttered closed. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and she knew she was supposed to hate him, but she didn't. She relished in the way she felt in that moment, like there was no place she'd rather be.

When Jace finally pulled away from her, she was slightly disappointed. He looked in her eyes, and she looked in his. "I'm supposed to hate you," Clary finally said. He gave her a crooked grin. "But you don't," he said. "I'm supposed to loathe you, and stay as far away from you as possible."

"Yet you don't want to," Jace said, still holding her tightly.

"I shouldn't feel like this."

"But you like it," Jace said, with that stupidly cute, crooked grin on his face.

"And I can't stand it," Clary said, kissing him again.

* * *

Magnus had gone off to get drinks for the three of them, while Isabelle and Alec sat on a bench in the park they'd seen yesterday. "They hate each other," Isabelle said. "How are we supposed to get them together?"

Alec looked at his sister, and remembered how they had decided to set Clary and Jace up together, a few days before leaving for the trip. "Jace doesn't hate her, he doesn't know how to act around her," Alec said after a moment. "He thinks I don't notice how he's always looking at her. I think he's trying to hate Clary, just like everyone thinks he does," Isabelle nodded in agreement.

"I don't know what to do about Clary, though," Isabelle sighed. "I think Jace needs to make the first move, before anything will happen," Alec seemed to think about this. "What if we go out during the day, and leave them alone?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him. "They don't have to talk to each other, I don't see how that would work," Isabelle said, as she sighed in frustration. "But they will, eventually." Alec added.

Isabelle looked over at her brother. "You're right, we can't just force this on them; it won't work," Isabelle rubbed her forehead with her fingers. "So, we just give them time? See what happens?" Alec asked. "We can try it," Isabelle said, as Magus approached.

"Oh, what are we talking about?" Magnus wiggled his eyebrows at Alec and Isabelle, as he handed them each a bottle of water, bags hanging from his arms. Alec smiled at him. "Nothing, just debating how much glitter you use on a daily basis," Isabelle nearly burst out laughing. "That is my business," Magnus said, squeezing himself in between Isabelle and Alec, forcing Isabelle to move over, as she glared at Magnus' glittery head. "But, let's just say I once bought the entire stock of glitter from a craft store."

* * *

 **Okay, what'd you guys think? Did you enjoy all the Clace I put in there for you?**

 **I hope so, because things are about to change.**

 **Muhahaha**

 **Either way, yes, if you're wondering, I am trying to make your death slow and painful.**

 **Oh, and review, or don't. Whatever.**


	10. Deal

"Clary!" Isabelle shook Clary awake from her restless sleep. "This is like trying to wake up a damn brick," Isabelle muttered. Clary sat up, and almost hit her head on Isabelle's, but thankfully Isabelle moved away in time. "I am not a brick," Clary said, narrowing her eyes at Isabelle. "I don't see how you aren't; you both have red colouring, and are hard to wake up."

"You can't wake a brick up," Clary pointed out. "Exactly."

Clary rolled her eyes at Isabelle, who sat across from Clary in her own bed. "Anyways," Isabelle said. "Do you want some coffee?" Clary squinted at the clock, that read 4:36 a.m. She tried to raise an eyebrow at Isabelle, but both went up, and Clary hoped Isabelle couldn't see it through the darkness that enveloped the bedroom. "Iz, can you tell time?" Isabelle looked at her, with a sort of stupefied expression. "Of course I can," Isabelle replied. "Are you sure? Because it's currently four-thirty in the morning."

"I know that," Isabelle said. "I couldn't sleep, and I wanted company."

"In that case, you should've brought the coffee with you," Clary pointed out, and Isabelle motioned to the cup of steaming coffee on the floor beside Clary's bed. Clary picked it up, and held it in her hands, relishing in the warm feel it sent through her hands, that resulted in soft shivers up her arms. "What exactly do you want to do at four-thirty in the morning?" Clary asked, suspiciously. "Because, I am not helping you hide another body-" Isabelle cut Clary off. "Shh!" She hissed, humouring Clary. "I thought we agreed not to talk about that?"

Clary laughed, it was a tired noise. "We could watch a movie?" Isabelle suggested. "I have my lap top, and there's internet here." Clary shrugged and nodded, before going to sit on Isabelle's bed. She pulled her laptop up, off the floor where it had sat, and placed it on the bed, as she waited for it to turn on. When it did, she put in her password, and clicked on the Netflix icon that appeared on her home screen. Clary was ashamed to admit that the icon was only there because they watched Netflix so much, and because they were too lazy to go on the internet and search it. While Clary was thinking, Isabelle had selected Gossip Girl, and they were watching it.

After they were about half an hour into it, Isabelle spoke, during a scene in which it showed Chuck Bass and Nate Archibald. "I'd do bad things for Chuck Bass," Isabelle said distractedly. "Frankly, I'd do bad things for any of the hot guys on this show," Clary said, as she watched Chuck and Nate talk. "Who wouldn't?" Isabelle asked. It was moments like these, when it was just her and Isabelle hanging out, that she truly appreciated someone who shared her unhealthy obsession with watching Gossip Girl, only to see the hot guys on the show-sometimes shirtless.

"Normal people, that's who," a voice that did not come from Isabelle's mouth said. One, it was too manly, and deep. And two, well Clary didn't really _have_ a two. "You forgot to shut the door," Clary said half-mindedly, to Isabelle who was intent on watching Gossip Girl, along with Clary, who had completely forgotten Jace's presence-and frankly, she wanted to ignore him. After kissing him, again, yesterday, she hadn't really known how to hold herself around him. Because, they weren't really dating, but they weren't friends, either, and they didn't hate each other. So where did that leave them?

Clary had no idea.

* * *

After watching a good dozen episodes of Gossip Girl, Isabelle had looked at the time, and announced she, Alec, and Magnus had something to attend to-probably more shopping, that Magnus was forcing Alec to do with them-and had promptly gotten dressed, done her hair, makeup, and left. Leaving Clary and Jace alone.

So, basically, Clary had been hiding out in her bedroom since they left. The idea of leaving her bedroom, and running into Jace, scared her more than she could say. And it wasn't like she hadn't had her fill of coffee for the morning, but soon she would need to re-caffeinate, and leave her bedroom. Clary was just about to leave her bedroom, her hand on the knob, when her phone buzzed. She dashed over to it, like it was the first piece of food she'd seen in weeks. There was a message from Isabelle.

 _We're going to a party tonight. Invite Jace(Alec said that)_

Clary laughed at the last part, and went back to the door. She was wearing another graphic t-shirt, that had a logo for Simon's band on it. It wasn't their current name, they kept changing it, but it was one of the old one's; Millennium Lint. Clary had found it a rather amusing name, and decided to keep the shirt, even after they changed the name. She was also wearing another pair of black shorts, tat went to just below the hem of the t-shirt, and they actually fit her properly.

Clary twisted the door knob, and pulled open the door, hoping that it wouldn't make any noise when she opened it. But, of course, she wasn't that lucky today, and the door let out a loud squeak. Loud enough for anyone in the house to hear it. Either way, Clary needed more coffee. Like, now.

So, when she ran into Jace in the kitchen, she tried to breath again. When she finally caught her breath, Clary spoke, as she filled a clean mug full of coffee. "There's a party tonight; Alec told Isabelle, to tell me, to invite you," Clary said, taking a breath after that mouthful of words. He didn't pay attention to the invite, instead he said something that completely derailed Clary's train of thought. "You've been avoiding me since yesterday," he remarked. "I have not," Clary argued.

"You have," Jace said, taking a drink of coffee from his mug. Clary noticed how distracting he could be, what with his gold hair and gold eyes, and...Clary was thankful she'd been staring into her coffee, instead of at him, because he had apparently been trying to talk to her for a few minutes, and was waving a hand in front of her face. Clary's head snapped up to look at him. She hadn't caught a word he'd said the past few minutes. "What?" Clary asked, trying to seem like she'd been listening, but knew it was too late for that.

Jace backed himself up to where he'd been standing a few minutes before, and looked at her. "You didn't hear any of that, did you?" He asked, as the corner's of is mouth quirked up. Clary had been studiously staring into her coffee again, up looked up at him, her eyes wide. "Huh?" She asked, and Jace gave a low laugh. "You're purposely ignoring me. You did it at school all the time," Jace said, and Clary tensed at the mention of school. Clary raised her eyebrows at him, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "Won't have to anymore."

He frowned. "You know you'll miss me," Jace said, a smirk finding its way onto his face. Clary had begun walking away, as he frowned at his feet, and was now halfway up the stairs, gripping the railing with one hand, the other holding her coffee. "Ha. You're funny," Clary said, and disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

Clary's head still felt like it was spinning, and she needed to go somewhere she could think.

She was walking down the hallway, staring up at the ceiling, looking for the string to pull, that would bring down the ladder that led to the attic. When she finally found it, she stepped off to the side, and pulled it. The ladder fell down with a loud noise, and dust flew around in the air, she inhaled some whenever she took a breath. Clary coughed, and waved her hand in the air, trying to clear away some dust.

Clary climbed up the ladder, leaving her mug of coffee on the floor. The ladder was wooden, with small pieces sticking up, that Clary was careful she didn't step on.

The attic was empty, just some old cardboard boxes empty-she wasn't quite sure why anyone would keep cardboard boxes in the attic, but who was she to judge? Clary stepped across the dusty, wood floor, looking at the ceiling, for a small door that would allow her onto the roof. She found the latch, and opened it, pushing it up, and sunlight poured through the attic, lighting up the dust particles floating around in the air. Clary, to the best of her abilities, pushed her self up, on her hands, and pulled her self the rest of the way out of the attic, until she was on the roof of the house.

It wasn't as slanted as it looked from the ground-which was definitely a good thing. Clary put her hands behind her, as she sat down. She went slowly, until her hands touched the shingles of the roof, at which time, she plopped down the rest of the way. Clary pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around them. The shingles were black, and hot. She tried not to touch them, though, as she looked down at the beach, the people, and the blue sky. The beach was crowded today, more so than the day before, but-thankfully-there weren't half as many hairy old men. Clary supposed it was because it was Saturday, that there were more families at the beach.

"Clary?" A voice came up from the ground. She looked down, to see Jace wearing his swim shorts, and shirtless. She could see his built arms, and stomach. "What are you doing on the roof?"

 _Damn it_. "Dancing," Clary said sarcastically. "What does it look like?" Clary couldn't see his exact expression, considering she was quite a bit higher up than he was. "How did you even get up there?" Clary shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said I have magical powers?" She tried. He laughed, and looked back up at her, shading his eyes from the sun with his hand. "I'm coming up," he announced, and disappeared back into the house. Clary let out a squeak of protest, but it was too late for that.

It was less than a minute later, when Jace pulled himself up onto the roof, sitting down beside Clary. "How did you _not_ see the ladder in the middle of the hallway?" Clary asked curiously. Jace shrugged. "I was already wearing my swim shorts, so I didn't have to go upstairs and change." Clary nodded, although she knew the ladder was probably visible from the first floor, even if you were just walking past the st

aircase.

"Why are you sitting on the roof?" Jace asked, a smirk settling itself in on his face. Clary put her head on her legs. "Simon says I tend to head for high-ground when I'm upset," Clary admitted. "Why are you upset?" Jace asked, looking at her with what seemed to be concern-but Clary knew he was good at faking emotions, especially to his many, _many_ girlfriends. "I'm not. I just wanted some place quiet."

He gave her a curious look; he almost looked like he was squinting with furrowed brows, while the corner of his mouth quirked up. "And that place was the roof?"

"Where else?" Clary asked, as she watched the people on the beach swimming, and she couldn't stop her mind from wandering to yesterday, when she had kissed him-well, he had kissed her. But either way, she had kissed him back-and that's what was worrying her. It was the reason she had had a restless sleep last night, the reason she couldn't seem to focus, the reason she was at war with herself.

Jace laughed, it was a low sound in his throat. An uneasy silence fell over them, as Clary tried to zone him out, watching the beach, the soft swaying of the trees as the breeze blew around the leaves and smaller branches. But, it didn't work the way it usually did; every time he moved, Clary found her eyes wanting to watch him, see what he was doing. Most times, he was just shifting on the hot shingles. Clary finally found her focus, and watched the waves crash on an undisturbed portion of the beach.

"Clary! Why are you on the roof?" She shouted, and Clary snapped out of her dream-like state. The dream had been black, with the faint sound of waves washing over her like white-noise. Clary nearly slide down the roof, because she had lost her footing, but luckily she caught herself. Her heart was racing in her chest, making its way up her throat. "My God, Izzy," Clary exclaimed. "I nearly fell off the roof!"

"Well, get off the roof, then!" Isabelle shouted back, and Clary grumbled, turning to go back into the attic. That was when she noticed; there was no gold beside her, there was no one at all. She felt her heart sink, slightly, and then realizing that she was disappointed because Jace was no longer with her, she shook her head. Hard. She was so confused-and she couldn't tell anyone. No one could help her with this mess.

* * *

Isabelle had been eyeing Clary suspiciously since she had sat down in the kitchen, along side Magnus and Alec. The constant suspicious looks were getting to Clary; making her squirm, and want to shed her skin. She shifted in her barstool, for what felt like the millionth time.

Clary finally had enough, and snapped at Isabelle. "Why are you staring at me?" Clary demanded. "Just take a picture, already!" Isabelle seemed taken aback by her outburst, but didn't stop eyeing Clary, looking at her like she was a complicated math equation. Clary huffed, and spun her barstool, so she was facing Isabelle head on. Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, fine. I'll bite; tell me why you're staring," Isabelle didn't seem like she was going to answer Clary, until she noticed Alec raising an eyebrow at her.

"Something's up with you," Isabelle stated. "And I'm going to figure it out," she declared. Clary blew out an agitated puff of air, making some pieces of hair float momentarily. "Nothing is up with me. I just didn't sleep well last night," Clary tried. Isabelle tapped her foot on the wood floor. "I noticed-you kept tossing and turning-but, that's besides the point, something is different. You look like something is on your mind. So spill," Isabelle said. This drew Magnus' attention, and he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Clary shook her head. "I'm fine, Iz. Now, stop staring at me," Clary said firmly, and hopped off the barstool, leaving a storm cloud where she had sat.

She was on her way through the door frame, so lost in her own world-that was at war, mind you-that she didn't see the tall, tan body walking through the door frame at the same time. She stumbled, taking a few steps backwards. Clary frowned at the person's chest, and then walked around him.

She was on her way up the stairs, when she heard conversation in the kitchen. She stopped, and sat on one of the steps, listening.

"Were you gone all day?" She heard Alec's voice ask. There was a reply, she knew, but she couldn't hear it-no matter how much she strained her ears, willing them to hear. "There's no way you were swimming all day," Isabelle's voice said.

"I wasn't," Jace's voice said, sending small shocks through Clary. "I met a girl," he added. She felt sharp pains in her chest, like needles pricking at her heart. Clary heard Alec, Isabelle and Magnus groan at the same time. "Please tell me she was over fifteen," Alec said. She could just imagine Jace shrugging. There was a collective chorus of groans, and, "really, Jace?" That was all Clary could bear, before she darted up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door.

-*#*-

Isabelle was forcing all of them to go to another bonfire that night, and Clary had protested. But nothing she said would change Isabelle's mind. So, now she stood-impatiently-waiting for Isabelle to finish her makeup. She had to undergo an Isabelle makeover, as she put it. Clary was wearing a pair of black jeans, with small rips along the legs, and a dark blue t-shirt. This one outfit, Isabelle had actually requested she wear a pair of sneakers. Clary had put on a pair of black high tops, and let Isabelle do her makeup-which was just mascara, and some red lip stain. "Iz, can you go faster?" Clary asked, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Patience," Isabelle said, swiping the mascara wand over her lashes. "Patience is a virtue you lack."

Clary snorted. "And modesty is a virtue you lack," Isabelle glared at her through the mirror's reflection, but Clary only laughed. She stood up, and raised her eyebrows at Clary. "Well," she said. "I'm done. Let's go."

They shuffled down the stairs, to be met by a bored looking Alec, and Jace. Magnus was looking in the small mirror by the door, fixing up his gelled hair, and a small amount of glitter rained down on the floor as he did so. Jace looked utterly annoyed, while Ale just seemed like Alec; always relaxed, and collected, and calm. "What took so damn long?" Jace asked. Clary pointedly ignored him, as she opened the front door. She stepped outside, followed by Magnus, then Isabelle, then Alec and Jace, who walked side by side. Their heads bent in conversation.

"How was your day, Biscuit?" Magnus wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she gave him a disbelieving look. "Well, it was great-until Isabelle scared me, and I almost fell off the roof," Clary replied, her voice clipped. "Someone's in a bad mood," Magnus teased, and Clary shot him a death glare. "Leave it alone, Magnus," Isabelle warned. "She's been like that since we got home."

Clary rolled her eyes a them. "Where is this party, anyways, Iz?" Clary asked, as Isabelle turned them down towards the beach. "On the beach, Clary," she answered. "Where else?" Clary could see a DJ booth set up, like last time, and she wondered who paid for these parties. The sky was dark now, and she could just make out the shape of someone by a circle of rocks, there was a small light-probably a lighter-and then a mass of flames. There must have been some gas on the fire, otherwise it wouldn't have caught so fast, she thought.

"Now," Alec said. "Clary, Isabelle, no drinking," Isabelle shot him a daring look. "I'm eighteen, and Clary will be eighteen next month," she pointed out. "So, if neither of us can drink, you guys can't, either."

Jace smacked Alec on the back, making him flinch slightly. Magnus looked awfully amused by the whole situation. "Deal," Alec said, reluctantly. Isabelle grinned. "I'm glad we understand each other," Clary had an idea. "Now, let's make this interesting," she said, catching everyone's attention. "Girls against guys," she said. "If either of us," Clary motioned to her and Isabelle. "Drink before you, you get to choose what we do tomorrow."

Isabelle grinned even wider, and Alec looked nervous. "And if the girls win, we get to chose what we do tomorrow," Magnus moved from where he stood, to beside Clary. "Magnus," Alec said. "What? We both know angel boy over there is going to blow it for the guys."

"Alright," Jace said. "Deal. Me and Alec, versus you three," he grinned. "This is going to be easy," Alec laughed at this comment. "The only reason I'm still on your side, is because you're my friend," Alec said. Jace frowned.

"Ouch," Isabelle said, and walked away, to the party that was slowly starting to fill up with people. Clary followed, walking side by side with Magnus.

"What should we make them do?" Isabelle asked, as she walked backwards. Clary shrugged, while an evil grin settled itself on Magnus' features. "What about-" Isabelle cut off, seemingly unsure of what to make the boys do. "We could make them go swimming in a pair a Magnus' swim shorts," Clary offered.

Magnus burst out laughing, along with Isabelle. "Perfect," she laughed. Clary smiled, as they walked by the flaming fire. The wood was black now, and a few embers lay in the bottom of the fire pit. There were guys and girls alike, chatting about random topics. There were a few people in front of the DJ booth, dancing, while others opted for swaying their hips. "Now," Isabelle said, her eyes warning. "If I see you drinking Magnus, I'll flush all your glitter down the toilet. If I see you drinking, Clary, I'll put glitter in your coffee for the rest of our lives," she warned. Clary raised her eyebrows, while Magnus gaped at Isabelle, his mouth hanging open. "Same for you, then, Iz," Clary said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine," Isabelle said, and disappeared into the crowd of people that was forming on the beach.

Soon after, Magnus left, leaving Clary alone in the ocean of people. She stood in front of the bonfire, watching the flames devour the wood. "Want to dance?" Someone asked, breaking her from her trance. She looked beside her, there was a boy; about Alec's height, with black hair, and eyes as black as coal. He was smiling at her, and the smile was quite infectious. "Sure," Clary said, and he took her hand, pulling her over to the DJ booth. By now, it was swarmed by teenagers dancing. The music was loud, and you could feel the thumping of the bass in your bones.

A Maroon 5 remix of _This Summer_ was on, and Clary found it the perfect song. And mostly, because she had a feeling summer wasn't through with her, not yet, anyways. The boy twirled her around, and she laughed. "I'm Sebastian, by the way," he said, as he stopped twirling her. She smiled at him. "Clary."

Clary felt eyes on her, and when Sebastian twirled her again, she caught a glimpse of gold watching her. As soon as he was there, he was gone, and Clary thought she'd imagined the whole thing-she probably had. So what if Jace had kissed her? He had long moved on, or so he implied. She felt a sudden burst of anger, and she couldn't tell you why, if you asked. Jace wasn't hers, he didn't like _her_. And she didn't like _him_. End of story.

Clary danced with Sebastian for a long time, after her burst of anger. "As much as I've enjoyed the night," Sebastian said. "My cousin is leaving, and I don't want her walking home alone at this time of night," Clary smiled. "I understand," she said, and let him go. He waved, and smiled at her, as he walked away.

She stood there, smiling for a few minutes, before she felt eyes on her again. She whirled around, leaving a mark in the sand with her sneaker as she did so. There he stood, a beer in hand, as he watched her. "Ha!" She shouted, and pointed to the beer in his hand. He looked down at it, and back to her. Isabelle must have heard her victory cry, and was beside her in a second's notice. "What? What happened?" Isabelle demanded, and then her eyes landed on Jace, and the beer that he held in his left hand. "We win!" Isabelle shouted. Jace looked slightly annoyed, but otherwise, he was expressionless. "We win," Isabelle grabbed Clary by the hand, grinning, she yanked hard, as she pulled Clary into the crowd of people.

"We have to tell Magnus," Isabelle said, shoving people out of her way. "And Alec," she added, as an after thought. "There they are," she said, but stopped, when she noticed that they were kissing. Clary rolled her eyes. "Iz, this is more important than kissing!" Clary said, and pulled her over to the couple. Clary tapped on Alec's shoulder, and he jumped away from Magnus almost instantly. "Clary-what-why did you-" she cut him off. "You lost," Clary put a finger on his chest, and smirked triumphantly up at him. "What are you talking about? Was Jace drinking?" Magnus asked, excitedly. Isabelle grinned at him.

Magnus slowly turned to look at Alec, an evil grin covered his face. "Should I be afraid?" Alec gulped. Clary and Isabelle nodded. "Definitely," Clary said. "Oh, God," Alec said, looking up at the sky. "I'm going to kill you, Herondale!" Alec shouted, and vanished into the crowd. Magnus stared after him, thoughtfully. "Should we wait for them?" He asked, a finger on his chin. "I don't think so," Isabelle said.

With that, they walked back to the house.

* * *

 **I'm so sorry for the lack of updates! I've been busy getting ready for school, and all that fun stuff.**

 **But either way, I really hope you guys liked this chapter. And I'll post the next chapter when this one gets to 70 reviews!**


	11. Loosing The Bet-Part One

"I am not wearing those," Alec said, his voice firm, as he eyed the glittery swim shorts Isabelle was holding up to him. "You sided with Satan's offspring," Isabelle said, using Clary's favourite nickname for Jace. "Given, that was a bad decision, but still, you lost."

Alec groaned, as Jace laughed. Clary came into the kitchen a moment later, holding up a pair of rainbow swim shorts, with glitter all over them. Magnus had just helped her customize them-especially for Satan's offspring. "I wouldn't laugh, if I were you," Clary said, showing off the swim shorts. Jace paled, staring at the swim shorts. "Please tell me those are for Alec," he said.

Clary gave him a sort of sympathetic look. "You wish," she said. He fell into the couch, and groaned, along with Alec. "You could have sided with us," Magnus said, as he strode into the room. "But, you chose friendship," he shrugged.

Clary and Isabelle stood in front of the boys, showing off the glittery swim shorts. "Why don't you just put them on, get it over with?" Isabelle asked, sounding bored, as she leaned against the counter. "Because," Jace started, before Alec held up a hand to silence him. "Shut up, would you? You blew this for us, and now we need to suffer. Namely you," he said, as he stood up, and took the swim shorts from Isabelle. "That is why mine are black and glittery, and why yours are rainbow and glittery."

"See," Magnus said. "Alec is being a good sport about loosing."

Jace mumbled something about how he hated all of them, and grabbed the swim shorts from Clary, and going up to his room, presumably to get changed. Next, Clary was dragged up the stairs by Isabelle, who-oddly-was grinning like she just won the lottery. "Izzy," Clary said. "Why are you grinning like that? It's creeping me out."

Isabelle shook her head slightly, and she stopped grinning, but it came back a moment later. It was like the grin would split her face open, it was so wide. "Seriously, tell me," Clary demanded, as Isabelle pushed open the bedroom door, with little effort. "Nothing-it's nothing," Isabelle said, pressing her lips together, trying not to grin again. Clary scowled at her, as she threw a bathing suit at Clary.

Clary pulled it off her head, and examined it. It was the emerald bikini she had worn only a few days ago. Isabelle pulled her ruby-coloured one, and Clary realized Isabelle may have just done that on purpose. "Well," Isabelle prompted. "Get changed."

"Oh," Clary said, as she stumbled ungracefully to the bathroom, shutting the door behind herself.

-*#*-

Isabelle still wore that dopey-yet creepy-grin as they walked to the beach. Alec and Jace were clad in their glittery swim shorts, and girls laughed, whenever they passed-some bold enough _not_ to cover their mouths, as they laughed. "Seriously," Clary said, watching Isabelle, keeping her distance, in case she was going to snap and pull out a knife-because that's what it looked like. "Why are you grinning like that?" Clary demanded.

Isabelle just shook her head, laughing, as they laid out their towels on the beach. Magnus raised an eyebrow in question, and mouthed, _why is she doing that?_ to Clary. She could only shrug in response. Isabelle was practically jumping out of her skin, as she tried to contain _something_ , but Clary just couldn't figure out what it was. "Isabelle Sophia Lightwood, if you don't tell me why the hell you're grinning like that, I will wreck your whole makeup collection," Clary threatened, as Isabelle's jaw hit the sand. Jace was looking down at himself in disgust, as Alec tried to brush the glitter off his swim shorts-unfortunately for him, the glitter was water proof.

"Fine," Isabelle huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. But as soon as she started talking, her face lit up with excitement. She grabbed Clary's hands, holding them. "Don't be mad," she warned, and Clary groaned, tilting her head to look at the sky, as if asking God to save her. "But," Isabelle continued slowly, as Clary waited impatiently. "Do you remember that really hot guy you danced with last night?"

"Sebastian?" Clary asked, looking back to Isabelle, who nodded excitedly. "Oh, God, Iz, what did you do? Kidnap him, and tie him to a chair?" Isabelle glared at Alec, as he laughed. "No," she said. "He wants to go on a date with you!" Isabelle squealed. "And," she continued, as Clary smiled widely.

"I gave him my number-because I knew you'd kill me if I gave out yours-and he said he was going to meet us here," Clary couldn't help the smile that rested on her face. But when her eyes met Jace's, she froze. He looked angry one moment, and the next, he was unreadable. Almost as if she'd imagined it.

XXX

"Clary, come jump off the dock," Isabelle said, not giving Clary much of a choice, as she pulled Clary to her feet, and into the water. It was cold, but so refreshing, after laying in the sun. "Sure, Iz," Clary said sarcastically. "I'd love to."

Isabelle rolled her eyes, and pulled Clary in deeper. The water was half way up her stomach, and they weren't even to the dock. "Iz," Clary said. Isabelle looked back at her, as they walked out further. "How did you meet Sebastian?"

Isabelle shrugged. "I ran into him-in town-while I was shopping with Magnus and Alec," Clary nodded. "He wouldn't shut up about you, either," Isabelle laughed softly, as she smiled at Clary. They were getting closer to the dock, and the water was now too deep for Clary to walk, and she swam behind Isabelle.

When they got to the dock, Magnus was sitting beside Alec, while they waited for the two girls. Isabelle's face lit up, and she grinned at them, as she floated in the water, holding tightly to the side of the dock, as was Clary. "Now what?" Alec asked the question everyone else had been trying to dance around, during the short silence. "Lets all jump off," Isabelle suggested, and Clary thought it was the strangest thing for her to be so excited about. She had to admit, it sounded fun, so she climbed up onto the dock.

Isabelle jumped off first, doing a perfectly executed backflip. Alec jumped next, doing a simple cannon ball. Magnus did a front flip off, leaving Clary standing alone on the dock, as she decided what she should do. She didn't really know how to do any flips, so she opted for doing a cannon ball, like Alec.

When she resurfaced, Clary grabbed onto the side of the dock, and pulled herself up. She sat on the edge, as her feet dangled in the water. She was reminded of the day she went swimming with Jace, and how she had done the very same thing. She felt a slight tingle on her lips, as she recalled the memory of that day. She hadn't even noticed Magnus, who was standing in the water, looking at her worriedly. "Are you alright, biscuit?" He asked, even though he knew Clary well enough to know the answer.

She nodded, snapping out of her reverie. "Yeah," she smiled.

Magnus' eyes widened, as he looked behind her. Clary cocked her head to the side, a questioning look on her face, her brows furrowed. She turned her head to look behind her, but before she could, she was pushed off the dock. She didn't even have time to scream.

She was under for a minute, before she resurfaced. She blinked the water out of her eyes, and turned to look at the dock, as she treaded water. Jace stood there, in his glittery, rainbow swim shorts, smirking down at her. "He really is Satan's off-spring," Magnus confirmed, and Isabelle laughed. Clary swam over to Magnus, and held on to him, so she wouldn't sink-or float away, whatever came first. She glared at Jace. "You're an ass," she pointed out, brushing hair off her face. "I hope you know that."

He shrugged, as he smirked down at her. "I've been called worse," he replied. Alec burst out laughing, as he pulled himself up onto the dock. Jace glared at him, but that certainly didn't keep him quiet, and soon Isabelle had joined in, laughing at Jace. Magnus ad Clary looked curiously to them, but got no reply, as they laughed together. Alec was gasping for breath, but he finally got words out. "Do you know how hilarious it is that you're glaring at me, while wearing-" he cut off, laughing. "Those," he pointed to Jace's swim shorts, and Jace looked down at himself.

He looked as if he were going to kill someone, but before he could, Magnus spoke. "You do realize you can't blame anyone but yourself for having to wear those," Jace looked annoyed, and angry. But other than that, his expression was unreadable. And not for the first time, Clary couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his head.

* * *

Clary and Magnus were walking back to the house, as Isabelle finished packing up her mass of things. Alec and Jace had left a while ago, to do God knows what. "Now do you understand why I call him that?" Clary asked, as she walked through the sand, looking up at Magnus. He nodded. "I've understood since the first time he opened his mouth to me," Magnus said, dryly.

"At least you're not going to the same college," Clary offered. "I suppose," Magnus said, his tone had the hint of sadness. He and Clary and Isabelle had always been close, even before he started dating Alec. He and Clary were closer, though. So, for him to be nineteen, and going off to college, was a sad thing, that Clary would have to accept. She sagged slightly, as they walked in silence.

Clary looked up, and spotted a familiar, dark haired boy walking towards her. He was smiling widely at her, and the smile was infectious. "Clary," he greeted, standing in front of her. "Sebastian," she said. "I was just leaving," she added, and she wasn't sure why. He looked slightly disappointed, but shrugged, as he continued smiling at her. "That's alright."

Clary nodded, as a girl came up and stood beside him. She had dark hair, and pale skin. She was fairly pretty. She gave Clary a soft smile. "I'm Aline," she greeted. "Sebastian's cousin." Clary returned her smile. "I'm Clary, and this is Magnus," she gestured to the tall, glittery man standing beside her. He tugged on her wrist, pulling her away slightly. "I'm sorry," Clary said. "I need to get going," Aline nodded, and began walking away, but Sebastian stood still for a moment, something flickering in his dark eyes. He leaned over to Clary, and pecked her on the cheek, and turned away from her, following Aline down the beach. Clary couldn't help the heat that rose to her cheeks, as she brought her hand to cradle the spot where he'd just kissed her.

Magnus rolled his eyes, and tugged her along, urging her to walk. But Clary just couldn't get over the small kiss on the cheek, that left her cheeks warm, and feeling slightly flustered. But she couldn't help but think of how it was nothing like when she kissed Jace.

* * *

Clary sat in the grass, pencil in hand, as she tried to finish her drawing of the flowers, before it got dark outside. She bit her lip, resting the end of the pencil against her chin, as she studied the flowers.

She was thankful for the quiet, especially after Isabelle nearly making her ears bleed, from her high-pitched squealing. She had completely freaked out when Clary had told her about the small kiss on the cheek. In hindsight, maybe she shouldn't have told Isabelle, but it was done now.

She felt someone else sit down beside her, but she ignored their presence almost completely. They could have been screaming bloody murder, and Clary wouldn't have paid them any attention. She was too focused on her drawing for anyone else, at the moment. "I told you they'd still be here," someone said, their breath stirring the hair on her back, and shoulder, as she looked back to see golden eyes. Her heart might have flat lined for a minute, before she took another breath. She tried to calm her pounding heart, as she coloured a flower.

There was silence after that, but Clary didn't mind at all. The sky was darkening, and you could hear all the noises still emanating from the beach; laughter, and yelling, and splashing water. She had finished her drawing, and looked down at it, satisfied with her work. Clary had completely forgotten Jace' presence, and thought that maybe he'd went back inside. But when she turned her head, she was still met with those golden eyes, that had melted the heart of almost any girl who saw them. But not Clary. She had seen through him, the moment her eyes had spotted him in ninth grade-of course he had been in tenth grade, but still.

Neither of them said anything, they just sat, and watched the other. Finally, though, he spoke, "he stood you up," Jace said, and Clary furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Who?" He shrugged. "Serena, or something?" Clary fought the urge to laugh. "Sebastian-and no, he didn't stand me up." This caught Jace's attention, as he turned his head, to look at her again. His expression was expectant, but she was in no mood to tell him anything. "If you're so desperate to know, ask Isabelle. She won't shut up bout it," Clary muttered the last part. His eyebrows shot up, almost meeting his hairline.

"You kissed him," Jace said, shock evident in his expression, and tone. Clary shrugged again, her expression bored and indifferent. "Maybe I did," Clary said. "I don't see how it's your business."

Anger flashed in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He just sat, as a slight flush rose to turn his cheekbones a light pink colour. Clary got tired of sitting, while he stared at her like a painting in a museum, and stood up, closing her sketch book. She began walking to the stairs, but she got in maybe two steps before Jace was standing in front of her, holding her arms, as he searched her eyes with his. She stood, annoyance bubbling in her chest. _Take a picture_ , she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue.

"You didn't kiss him," Jace said, and before Clary knew what was happening, he brought his lips down to hers.

* * *

 **Oh my good Lord. Help me. Some big things are about to go down, and the next chapter should be up tomorrow! *Squeal!***

 **You guys are going to love the new drama that should start playing out in the next chapter, it'll only get more, hmm, what's a good word? Exciting? Dramatic? Painful? I don't know, but probably all of those. It will definitely make fore some good entertainment.**

 **And believe it or not, I already know how the story is going to end-and you probably won't like it.**

 **Until tomorrow:)**


	12. Loosing The Bet-Part Two

Isabelle sat on a barstool, her legs crossed, one atop the other, as she tapped impatiently on the counter. "Alec, I don't know what to do," she said, running a hand through her waterfall of hair. "Sebastian is interested in her, and I think she's interested in him, too. And after what Jace pulled today, I just-I don't know what to do."

Alec didn't answer for several beats, which seemed like an eternity passing. "I know you wanted this to happen, Iz," Alec soothed. "But things don't always work out like you want them to." Isabelle looked up at him, her eyes worried, as she brushed the hair away from her face, only to have it fall back to the same spot moments later. "I just want to see her happy," Isabelle felt tears threatening to spill over the floodgates. "She's never been happy-not truly, genuinely happy, not since her dad and Jonathan died."

Alec pulled her into him, and her arms wrapped around him, holding him tightly. She pulled away from him a moment later, looking as composed as ever, and if you hadn't seen, you wouldn't have known she was only seconds from crying a minute earlier. "Where _is_ Clary?" Isabelle asked, standing up from the barstool. Alec shrugged. "I saw her go outside earlier, she was holding her sketch book," he offered. Isabelle began walking to the front door, Alec in tow. "I'm going to see if she wants to order something to eat."

Isabelle opened the front door, and felt all the colour drain from her face. She looked incredulously at the sight unfolding before her. "Why are you just standing there?" Alec asked, slightly annoyed, as he pushed Isabelle to the side, so he could stand beside her. His face drained of all colour, as he saw the same thing that had his sister standing dumbfounded on the landing.

Isabelle was animated, a second later, jumping up and down, squealing in excitement. "I knew it!" She shouted excitedly. "I knew it would happen!" She hugged her brother tightly, as Clary and Jace sprang apart, looking around. Clary caught the excited gleam in Isabelle's eyes, and her face turned redder than her hair. Isabelle was down the steps in less than two seconds. "I _called_ it! I _so_ called it!" She squealed excitedly. Magnus came rushing out of the house, to stand beside a still-frozen Alec. "What?" Magnus asked, looking around wildly. His eyes came to a rest on Clary and Jace; she was as red a fire truck, while he was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Isabelle!" Clary shouted finally. "Shut up already!"

But that didn't stop Isabelle from jumping around in glee. Magnus was down the stairs in less time than Isabelle had been, and he grabbed Clary by the shoulders, bending down lightly to look her in the eyes. "Clarissa," he said slowly. "Please tell me you didn't kiss Satan Jr. over there," he motioned with his head to Jace, who Isabelle was dancing around. Clary remained silent, looking anywhere but Magnus' green-gold eyes. "You did," Magnus said, and he almost gagged. "Oh my," he said, his expression turning to one of worry. He looked desperately to Isabelle, and then Alec, who was slowly beginning to re-animate. "I think she's sick," he put his hand to Clary's forehead.

Clary swatted Magnus' hand away, and scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. " I am not sick," she spat, somewhat angrily. "It's worse than I thought," Magnus said, grabbing her face in both hands, and moving from side to side, looking into her eyes at different angles. "I think she's possessed!" Magnus shouted, as Isabelle started calming down.

Isabelle skipped over happily, and swatted Magnus' hands away from Clary. "She is _not_ possessed," Isabelle said. "You just don't want to admit that you lost the bet," Isabelle put her hands on her hips, giving Magnus a superior look. Clary's eyes shot up. "Bet?" She demanded, looking between Magnus and Isabelle for an answer. "You _bet_ on me?" Clary fumed. Alec was walking down the stairs slowly, as if trying to let everything soak in.

Isabelle had stopped jumping around, and was taking a few steps away from Clary, who was still red-but from anger rather than embarrassment. Magnus stood his ground, though, and looked down at Clary. "We did," he said simply. Clary looked at him expectantly. "I said that you wouldn't end up dating Satan's off-spring by the end of the summer," Magnus explained. "While Miss jumpy over there said you would." He nodded his head in the direction of Isabelle, who was bouncing on her heels slightly.

"Well," Clary said, her tone somewhat angry. "We're not dating."

This, caught the attention of everyone, except Jace, who was trying to avoid making eye contact with Clary. "W-what?" Isabelle asked, her arms dropping to her sides, looking between Clary and Jace, a confused, yet disappointed expression. "We kissed, Isabelle," Clary said. "That does not mean dating."

* * *

Clary stormed up the stairs, past a frozen Alec, and into the house. She didn't bother shutting the door behind her, either, because she didn't really see a point. Clary sped up the stairs, and into her bedroom, that time, she did slam the door.

She couldn't believe she had kissed him. _Again_. Clary started pacing around the room, trying to figure out what to do. But she had no clue what she _could_ do. She could always go back up on the roof, but then she'd have to risk Isabelle scaring her and making her fall off. So, that one was crossed off.

The door creaked open, to reveal Magnus. She peered behind him, looking for Isabelle-who she had no desire to see at the moment. "Biscuit," Magnus started. Clary held up a hand to stop him, the words dying on his lips. "Don't." Clary said coldly. "Just don't talk to me."

Magnus slumped, his posture sagging. Clary continued her pacing, as Magnus sat down on the edge of her unmade bed. He stared down at his feet, as if ashamed to meet Clary's gaze head on. She couldn't blame him, she wouldn't want to, either.

Finally, after pacing for a long while, Clary slumped against the wall, sliding down, until she was sitting on the floor. She let out a lengthy sigh. "I'm loosing it, Magnus," Clary finally choked out. He looked up, cautiously, to see Clary, slumped, her head resting on her knees, her arms laced around her knees. "What on earth are you talking about?" Magnus asked, his tone gentle but firm, as he slumped down beside her.

She looked over at him, lifting her head up slightly. "I kissed him," Clary said simply. She didn't have to say more; it explained everything, more than anything else could have. Magnus pulled her against him, and she buried her face in his side, not even thinking about the mass of glitter that would cover her. Magnus rubbed circles on her back.

Magnus pulled away from her, forcing her to look up at him. "Why does kissing him mean you're loosing it?" Magnus asked. Clary frowned at the question, as if it hovered in the air before her. "I-I don't know?" Clary said, but it came out as more of a squeaky question. Magnus chuckled softly beside her, and she could feel him moving. "I think you know."

Clary thought hard about her answer; she knew it well and surely, but would Magnus think she was stupid for saying it aloud? Taking a deep breath, she decided to spill her guts to Magnus. "I'm supposed to hate him," Clary said, still frowning at the air. "But now, I'm not sure."

Magnus laughed, and Clary scowled at him. "Biscuit," Magnus snaked his arm around her shoulders. "All that time, you were hating him, you didn't see how he looks at you when he thinks you aren't looking," Clary stopped dead, her heart flat-lining. Words died on her lips, every time she attempted a response. _But he hates me, doesn't he?_ A nasty little voice reminded her. "What do I do?" She said, so quietly _she_ almost didn't hear it. "That's up to you, biscuit," Magnus said.

* * *

"Clary? What's wrong?" Simon's voice rang through the phone, a sense of relief so intense washing over Clary, she felt the tears pricking at the back of her eyes. "Nothing, I just-I needed to talk to you."

Simon makes a noise, like he doesn't believe a syllable that has come out of Clary's mouth. "I know that tone, Clarissa," Simon said. "What happened?" Clary closed her eyes tightly, and bit down on her lip. "You can't get mad at me. Promise you won't get mad," Clary said, keeping her eyes screwed shut. "Fine. I promise, now spill it."

Clary inhaled deeply, before she spilled all her bloody guts out to Simon, who no doubt, would be sick afterwards. "I kissed someone," Clary said. "So?" Simon asked, his tone expectant. "Who was it?" Clary swallowed, her throat dry as parchment. "Um, well," Clary stuttered. "Jace."

The line went silent, and Clary thought Simon had hung up on her, or dropped dead on the spot. "Simon?" Clary asked, hesitantly. "Simon? Are you alive? Did you hang up on me?" Clary rambled. "Yeah," a soft reply rang through her head. "I'm here."

Clary breathed a sigh of relief, but then felt the stress over her, like ice water being poured over her head. "You're mad," Clary said. "Aren't you?" There was another moment of silence, before Simon spoke again. "Why would I be mad?"

Clary's eyes shot open, her mouth dropping open a little. "I-I don't know-I just thought-" Clary stopped herself, knowing full and well there _was_ no reason for Simon to be mad at her. "Clary, I have no reason to be mad-sure, you kissed my sworn enemy, but if it-if _he_ -makes you happy, I'm all for it."

Clary's eyebrows shot up, nearly touching her hairline. "I know you haven't been yourself since Jon and Dad, but-" Simon stopped himself, when he heard Clary's breath hitch sharply. "Can we not talk about them?" Clary asked quietly. "Yeah, of course," Simon said quickly. "Listen, I have to go. But I'll call you back later?"

"Yeah, sure," Clary said, and the line went dead. She threw her phone down on the bed, watching it bounce around slightly, until it settled itself in the mess of sheets and blankets that was her bed. Magnus had left a while ago, and when Isabelle had come in and asked to talk, Clary had turned her away, as she nervously picked at the skin on her hands. There were marks from her nails digging in, every time tears threatened, but they would be gone in a few days at most.

Clary pulled on her hair, not sure how long she could stay sane inside the bedroom. She couldn't face Isabelle, or Alec, and even the thought of Jace made her nerves prickle, an her hands shake horribly. She didn't know what to do.

It was only a kiss, she reminded herself. But, it was so much more. At first she was angry at Isabelle and Magnus for betting on her, but now...she was confused and angry-at herself. Her feelings were a hurricane, and there was no way of stopping it long enough to figure out what was going on. Her head was spinning. Anything she tried to do, felt useless. And it was only a matter of time before Isabelle wasn't going to be polite about talking to her-or civil, for that matter-and strap her to a chair, giving her no choice but to talk to her.

But that never happened.

When Isabelle had wanted to retire to bed, Clary found herself sneaking out of the house, and just sitting outside. Isabelle had given Clary this look, one that looked so guilty, yet unregretful. She shook Isabelle, and Alec-who was still suffering from shock-from her mind. Along with Magnus, and Jace.

Clary stared up at the stars, as they shone down on her. There wasn't much light, so the idea of Clary being able to draw _anything_ , was hopeless. She had no doubt in her mind that her clothes would be covered in sand-especially her cardigan, but she didn't really care. Not right now. The stars were so beautiful, in all their simplicity.

She found herself staring up at the stars, sitting on the piece of drift wood she'd dragged over from the beach, staring up at the stars. She stared, until pitch black skies, lit by bright white stars, turned to purple, to soft pink and orange as the sun rose. There was already people going for morning runs by the beach, Clary noted, as she yawned.

She sat there, still, watching the sun move around the sky, until the sky was it's regular, bright blue. Clary stood up, almost falling over, her legs numb from not moving for such a long period of time. Stretching out her arms, she let out another long yawn, that seemed to drag on, and on.

Clary reluctantly walked back into the house, to be immediately greeted by the smell of fresh coffee. She was walking to the kitchen, when Isabelle came bolting down the stairs, nearly steam rolling right over her. "Clary?" Isabelle asked, a slightly panicked look etched onto her features. "Where did you go?" Clary raised a hand, to silence her. "Coffee."

Isabelle looked furious. "You disappear, and the first thing you say is 'coffee'?" She demanded, her hair falling over her shoulders as she twisted her head to look at Clary, as she walked to the kitchen. Clary simply nodded, but then proceeded to rub the back of her neck. Magnus is leaning against the counter, while Alec is sat on a barstool, picking at his bowl of cereal, while he has his head bent slightly, in conversation with Jace, who sat beside him.

Magnus' head popped up, as he seen Clary, his eyes wide. "Where did you-" Clary pointed to the coffee pot, which sat, filled with delicious black coffee, steaming. "Coffee, Magnus. Coffee." Clary said, and proceeded to grab herself a mug from the cupboard, and pour some of the hot liquid into it. She took a good, long drink-maybe just to make Isabelle angrier. Isabelle was tapping her foot impatiently on the hard wood, her arms crossed over her chest as she waited for Clary to speak. "I was outside."

Isabelle looked at her incredulously. "All night?"

"All night." Clary confirmed, taking another drink from her ceramic mug.

"Did you fall asleep out there, or what?" Isabelle asked, her tone angry, yet somewhat annoyed. "Not for a second," Clary replied, leaning on the counter, beside Magnus. Isabelle groaned. "My God, Clarissa," she said, her head to the sky. "What are we going to do with you?" Alec and Jace's heads were still bent in conversation, which gave Clary the ability to breath, knowing she wouldn't have to talk to Jace. "Refill my cup?" Clary offered, holding out her mug. Isabelle laughed, as Magnus refilled the mug with coffee, steam rising out of it.

Alec had seemingly acknowledged Clary's presence, giving her a curious look, while Jace was avoiding her completely. _Good_ , she thought. _I don't want you to talk me, anyways_.

-*#*-

"Clary," Isabelle said. "We're going swimming, and then for lunch. Care to join?"

Clary gave her a skeptical look. "Who is 'we'?" Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Alec and Magnus, that's who," Isabelle replied. Clary tried to raise an eyebrow, but raised both instead. "So you're telling me that Jace is just going to stay here? By himself, while we go out for lunch, and go swimming?"

Isabelle groaned. "Fine. Jace is coming, too. But, really Clary, this tension can only last so long." Clary turned her back to Isabelle, rummaging through the closet for a bathing suit. She decided on a bright green bikini, different from her other one, in a way that she felt like more was being covered. The top was longer, covering up more of her stomach. That she liked. "Hmm," Isabelle said, coming up behind her to asses the bathing suit. "I don't remember packing that one."

She shrugged, and turned back to her own clothes. Clary, meanwhile, pulled out tank top, with skinny straps, throwing her cardigan on her bed. It was too hot for that. On her way to the bathroom, Clary grabbed a pair of cut-off's.

-*#*-

Despite having bought water from the chip stand, they'd never actually tried the food. And Clary had to admit, it was pretty good. The fries she had eaten, were nice and crispy; just the way she liked them.

But, crispy French fries were no match for the tension between her and Jace. You could practically reach out and grab it-Clary had almost tried, too. The tension was just plain awkward, and neither of them knew how to deal with it. So, there they were, walking down the beach, towels draped over their arms, or in the boys' case, around their necks.

"Such a nice day," Isabelle murmured, pushing her sunglasses further up her nose. "Yeah," Alec replied. Clary was surprised he'd spoken; Alec had been quiet, even quieter than usual. Right then and there, Magnus stopped walking, and turned to face them all, forcing them to stop walking. "Okay," he pointed to Clary and Jace. "The tension here, is so not enjoyable. Fix it, you two," he turned on his heel, leaving a rather deep impression in the sand, as he walked away. Alec and Isabelle hot on his heels, as if they just _knew_ what was going to happen. Leaving Clary and Jace, standing there, looking dumfounded at the other.

Clary looked away from him, out towards the water, where small waves crashed onto the shore, as Alec, Isabelle and Magnus laid out their towels. "Stop staring at me," Clary said, not looking at him. "No matter how much you might think it's romantic-spoiler alert-it's actually creepy."

Jace laughed, sounding a little nervous. "Are you going on a date with that guy?" Jace asked, after a moment of silence. Clary turned back to look at him, clutching her towel for dear life. "I haven't heard from him-not since yesterday," she said, shrugging. "I don't think I would go out with him, anyways," Jace gives her a curious look, but she could see the amusement dancing in his eyes like flames. "Why not?" Jace asked, his hair sparkling in the afternoon sun like pure gold. "Does it matter?"

"Pasty-skinned, black-haired boys aren't your thing?" Jace smirked. Clary rolled her eyes. "I don't _have_ a type," she replied. "Really?" He asked, taking a step closer to her. "I thought it would be golden eyes, golden hair-?" Clary looked at him, long and hard, a million an one thoughts running through her head at hyper-speed. She walked up to him, taking him by surprise. She was looking up into his aureate eyes, and before she knew what was happening, Jace had pressed his lips to hers.

Clary found herself melting into the kiss completely, all of her resolve-if she had any-melting away like snow in summer. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Almost as soon as it had began, it was over. Clary pulled away from him, her cheeks heating up, as she looked down at her feet, and then back into Jace's golden eyes, where the flames had seemed to intensify to a wild fire. "We have an audience," Jace said. Clary looked over, to see Isabelle and Magnus, watching intensely, while Alec looked away sheepishly. "Evidently," Clary replied, pulling free of his grasp. She walked away from him, and over to Isabelle and Magnus, laying out her towel next to Isabelle's. "Did we fix it, Magnus?" Clary asked pointedly.

Magnus looked thoughtful for a moment before he replied. "I think he made it worse."

* * *

 **Sorry about the wait, I was going to finish up and post yesterday but life got in the way, and so here we are, me giving you an update. Late. _Again_. **

**Either way, leave me a review on what should happen next-what YOU think should happen next. I love exciting plot twists, remember that.**

 **Until next time:)**


	13. I Don't Remember

_I think he made it worse_. What could that possibly mean? Clary certainly had no idea, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. Clary turned her body, the sheets wrapping around her in true cocoon fashion, and she groaned, untangling herself from the sheets. Sitting up in bed, Clary looked over to Isabelle, who was sound asleep, and snoring lightly. She didn't have the heart to wake Isabelle, so Clary quietly grasped for her sketch book, finding purchase, when her hand went to the floor. Next to it, were her pencils. She gingerly left the bedroom, closing the door behind herself.

* * *

Clary had found something new to sketch; the water. She sat, just at the water's edge, her feet in the water. The sounds of the small waves breaking, were oddly comforting. Clary knew she should be sleeping; she hadn't slept well in so long, it was almost driving her to insanity. She knew, though, it wasn't sleep deprivation driving her to slowly to insanity. It was a certain boy. One with gold eyes and hair. _I think he made it worse_. The words teased at Clary's mind, sending her mind spiralling to what Magnus could have meant. She bit down on her lip, as she focused intensely, something she found herself doing often. For the first time in days, her head wasn't spinning.

-*#*-

The ground shifted beneath her, as she shifted, herself. The heat was not unwelcome, but the bright light certainly was. "Clary?" A gentle voice asked, shaking her softly. "Clary, wake up."

Clary sat up, rubbing at her eyes, not even bothering to smooth down her hair; whoever was waking up sleeping beauty, would have to get a look at sleeping beauty. She was almost certain she looked like a racoon; the dark bags under her eyes from sleepless nights, the messy nest of red curls. Her eyes finally focused, staying open completely.

Her "prince" just happened to be someone who couldn't even be bothered to comb his hair. Alec.

"Alec?" Clary grumbled, her voice thick with sleep, as the confusion set in; there was an imprint of her body in the sand, sand all over her shirt, shorts, sketch book. "Huh?" Clary said, half to herself. Alec's hand held her arm, as he looked her over. "We're on the beach," he said. Clary nodded. "I know, I just-I don't remember falling asleep."

"You almost gave Isabelle and Magnus a heart attack this morning, when they woke up and you were gone." Alec said, making Clary's stomach churn with guilt for scaring them like that. "Sorry, I just-" Clary cut off. "I couldn't sleep."

Alec gave her a sympathetic look. "Again?" He asked. "How long has it been since you've had a good nights sleep?" Clary gave a shrug in response. "Well, then, come on," Alec said, holding out his hands to her. She accepted them gratefully, allowing him to full her to her feet. Brushing off her clothes, Clary picked up her pencils and sketch book.

They walked in silence, and Clary assumed Alec didn't think she noticed the worried glances he'd send her every few steps. "What did her mean?" Clary blurted, wanting to take back the words almost instantly. He furrowed his eyebrows in question. "Magnus, I mean. When he said 'I think he made it worse'?" Alec sighed. "You don't remember, do you Clary?"

This time, it was Clary's turn to give Alec a questioning look. "Remember _what_?" Clary demanded. "I shouldn't even be telling you this," Alec muttered, but then stopped walking altogether, and looked Clary in the eyes, bending down to be on her level, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You can not-I repeat, can _not-_ tell anyone I told you this, got it?"

"Okay," Clary shrugged, not seeing what could be that big of a deal she couldn't tell anyone. Alec took a deep breath. "You remember the crash Jonathan and your Dad were in, right?" He asked, his face abnormally pale. Clary squinted at him slightly. "Yeah, they both died on impact," Clary said, trying to keep her voice even and devoid of emotion. Alec shook his head. "No, that's wrong. Only your Dad did-Jonathan was alive for a few minutes afterwards."

"Alec, I don't-" he cut her off. "You were sitting in the backseat, Clary." he said. "You were asleep for days, _days_. It was awful, we thought we were going to lose you. But you came back to us, and you looked fine; you were still Clary, well and truly." Clary looked at him, unsure if this was true, or just some elaborate lie. But then again, Alec never lied.

"But," Alec hesitated, looking down at the ground, before he met her eyes again. "Your memory was screwed. Everything was normal, except little bits and pieces of your memory. Like, you remembered Isabelle, Magnus, your Mom, Luke, me, instantly. But Jace..." He bit his lip. " _Jace, what_?" Clary prodded.

"You didn't remember at thing about him, other than the way you guys were before you became friends," Alec said, his answer too vague for Clary's liking. She raised her eyebrow's at him, her expression expectant. "Well, like you are now, bickering and fighting. That way." Alec replied.

Clary shook her head. "That's not true, Alec," she insisted. "Wouldn't my memory have come back by now? And wouldn't _someone_ have let it slip?" Alec let her shoulders go, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "All of us have let something slip, except your parents and Jace-well until now," he replied, his tone slightly stressed. "Every time we did, you had no clue what we were talking about, so you didn't bother with it-thank God," he sighed.

"Too early for all this," Clary muttered. Alec turned back to face her, raising an eyebrow at her. "It's noon, Clary."

"Oh," she said simply. "Why did everyone lie?" Clary asked, her voice quiet. She felt so vulnerable, all of a sudden; everyone knew these things about her, that she didn't. "The doctors said it would overwhelm you, and that it would probably be better to let everything come back on its own." Clary bit the inside of her cheek. "But, it never happened," Alec said. "So, here we all are, waiting on the day you remember everything the way it's meant to be."

"'Meant to be?'" Clary asked, taking a few steps back from Alec, who had seemingly just realized what he'd said. "Clary-that's not what I mean-" Alec started, but Clary didn't find out what he'd meant, because she bolted off down the beach, in the direction of the house.

* * *

Clary burst through the front door, slamming it shut behind her. She could hear chatter from the kitchen, were they all seemed to enjoy hanging out-for whatever reason. "Clary, is that you?" Isabelle called out. Clary didn't have it in her to answer, she didn't think she could face Isabelle and not loose it. She would snap, just like that.

Isabelle wandered out a little bit from the kitchen, the open floor plan allowing her a decent view of the front door and staircase. "Clary," she sighed a breath of relief. Clary didn't make eye contact with her, trying to leash in her raging temper. "Are you okay? I was so worried," she said, trying to pull Clary in for a hug. Clary pushed her away, and Isabelle frowned at her.

"What the hell is up with you?" Isabelle demanded, resting her hands on her hips. Magnus wandered into the front room next, seeing the conflict on the rise, he slowly tried to back out of the room. "Oh, no you don't," Clary said, sending him a look that would've had him dead, had looks been able to kill. He froze on the spot. "You really want to know?" Clary asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Isabelle said, her calm slowly fading away, showing the fiery anger hidden just beneath her surface. "I know," Clary said, her voice low and angry. "The crash, the lies, everything." Magnus looked down at his feet, and Isabelle paled. "Not one of you thought it might be a good idea to tell me? It's been almost three years! I still don't remember, and I had to find out from Alec!" Her voice had risen to a shout, drawing the curiosity of Jace. "Leave," she heard Isabelle hiss at him.

"Why?" Jace asked, looking from Isabelle, to Magnus, to Clary. "I can't believe all of you," Clary said finally, opening the front door again, and walking right back out.

She didn't know where to go. She didn't know what to do with her flaming temper. Clary tossed her sketch book and pencils in the sand, as she took the last step. There wasn't many places she knew around here, but surely there was somewhere she could go, at least for a little while. Somewhere she could just get away from everything.

An idea chimed in at just the right moment. No one would even _think_ to look for her in a store; she hated shopping. So, without hesitation, Clary headed further into the small town.

* * *

There was a small bakery, right near the corner of a street. It was tucked in between a men's clothing warehouse-which was much smaller than any warehouse ought to be-and a book store, Clary made a mental note to visit the book store some time, before ducking into the bakery. Her nose was immediately attacked, by the delicious smells of freshly baked bread, and cupcakes.

"Hey, can I get you anything?" A voice interrupted Clary's thoughts. There was a girl, she looked about the same age as Clary; auburn hair, tied into a tight pony tale, dark skin, cargo pants, and a black tee, all covered in flour. Clary gave her a weak smile, the best one she could muster. "No," Clary said. "Just looking." The girl nodded, and disappeared through a door.

Clary sank down in a plastic chair, the vibrant orange colour was reflected on the wall. She propped her head up on her hand, staring out the window, as people passed by. Nothing made sense, and suddenly, her head was spinning again. Now she knew what Magnus had meant. Jace was missing whatever they had before the crash. But what had they had? Being friends with Jace, it seemed like a whole other concept, one that was teasingly familiar.

There wasn't one thing Clary remembered about the crash, let alone being in it; her mom had hidden any knowledge away from her, refusing to speak about it. But from what Isabelle had told her, it was pretty bad. Is that why she had felt so confused after kissing Jace? Because they had been friends, or was it different? Had they been secretly dating, or something? The thoughts scared Clary, more than she wanted them to.

Sighing, Clary picked herself up, and moved to open the door. All of a sudden, a small takeout container was thrust in front of her. She looked up, to see the pretty girl from behind the counter. "Take these," she said. Clary gave her a curious look. "Why?" The girl shrugged. "You just looked so sad, I thought these might help." She thrust the box at Clary once more. Reluctantly, Clary took the box, and opened the lid. Inside, were six delicious-looking red velvet cupcakes, with cream cheese icing. "Let me pay you," Clary's hand dove into her pocket, fishing for the ten she'd put in there yesterday. She found it, and held it out to the girl. The girl stuck her hand up. "No," she said. "No charge."

"Are you sure?" Clary asked, reluctantly pulling the ten back. The girl nodded. "I'm sure." She said, and was off again, before Clary could argue further.

Clary resumed her actions, of leaving the store, now holding a box of cupcakes in one hand, while the other shoved the ten back into her pocket. She made to go to the book store, see if she could find a book to help pass the time. She just couldn't go back to the house; not now. Maybe she would just go home, hitch hike, or catch a plane. Something.

A small bell sound rang out through the shop, as Clary pushed open the door. There was an elderly woman sitting behind a glass counter, holding open a book. She had white hair, pulled tightly into a bun behind her head, and round glasses perched on her nose. The walls were lined with books, upon books. The aisles were lit by dull lights, just giving enough light to be able to read. The old woman smiled at Clary, before resuming her reading. Clary skimmed her eyes over the labels on the side of shelves, she headed for the one that read fiction. It was always much more fun to visit a world that wasn't your own.

There wasn't much there she hadn't already read, but what was wrong with re-reading some of your favourite books? Clary picked up a copy of _The Hunger Games_ , debating whether or not it was worth it, to buy a book she already had back home. She decided against purchasing another copy, and gave the old woman a weary smile before leaving.

It was going to be a long night. And she refused to go back to the house.

* * *

 **Hey guys! An update! Woo hoo!**

 **Major plot twist there, huh? Bet you never saw that one coming, did ya?**

 **Oh, well. I guess Clace might just have to be put on hold for a while. Leave a review, if you want more!**

 **Next chapter when I get 100 reviews!**

 **Hope you all enjoyed!**


	14. I've Lost It

The small town was beautiful at night. the locals were nice-for the most part-and it was calming, overall. There were small lights strung up around an outdoor restaurant's patio, and you could see the groups of people dining there.

The sun had set long ago, and a cool breeze had easily broken through Clary's t-shirt. She was reminded, once again, that she was wearing days old clothes, full of sand. Her hair was still messy, but she'd managed to comb through it with her fingers, so now it at least looked slightly presentable. But what did it matter? She lost years worth of memories, and who knows how many lies had been invented to keep her from the truth. And just the fact that _Alec_ had been the one to tell her this, and not Isabelle, or Magnus, or her Mom, told he something she didn't want to know. Of course she knew they thought it was best for her, but the fact that they thought lying to her was better than the truth, it stung a little. It really hurt.

At that point, she was glad her phone was still tucked underneath her pillow-otherwise she'd be pestered with calls and texts, when all she wanted was to be alone. Away from all of them. _Clary, you're being stupid_ , her brother's voice rang through her head. "I don't want to hear it, Jon," Clary mumbled to herself. _This will only make things worse_. "I don't care. I want to be away from it, far away," she probably sounded crazy, but it felt as if she were having a real conversation with Jonathan, and it made her heart hurt. So badly. She wanted to be able to hold him, one more time. "Don't be stubborn," Jon said, and Clary's head snapped up immediately, looking around frantically.

She was going crazy, Clary was sure of it.

There, standing a little ways away, was Jonathan. His fair hair blowing in the breeze, and his green eyes lively and looking right at her. _It's not real_ , she told herself. _Jonathan is dead_. "Go away!" Clary near shouted at him. It wasn't him, though, it couldn't be. _Jonathan is DEAD!_ She internally screamed at herself. "You didn't miss me, little sister?" He asked, walking closer to her. Clary backed away, onto the empty road. She tripped over the curb, and stumbled around before she finally fell to her knees. There was a burning sensation in them, she had probably scraped them on the pavement. She buried her face in her hands, crying hysterically. "You're dead, you're dead," she repeated.

A hand began rubbing up and down her back, she turned to look, as tears ran down her cheeks rapidly. "I'm not, Clary," he said. "I'm not dead." Clary looked at him, beginning to hyperventilate. Her breathing coming in short wheezing noises. She pulled herself away from him, moving slowly on her knees, making the burning sensation worse. Jonathan was crouching, where she had just been sitting. Clary stumbled, putting her hands out, to push herself back to her feet. She took unsteady steps backwards, as tears stained her cheeks. Jonathan stood up, sighing, he stayed standing where he was. "I'm going crazy," Clary said, to herself. "I'm going absolutely crazy. I'm seeing my dead brother, I lost my memory, I'm a disaster, I'm crazy," Clary mumbled.

She wiped at her eyes, trying to clear her vision, sure that when she could see clearly, Jonathan would be gone. Clary looked ahead, trying to regulate her breathing, and sure enough, Jonathan was gone. "I'm so utterly crazy," Clary breathed, covering her eyes with her hand. Suddenly, she was wrapped in someone's arms. Their embrace was tight. Clary looked up, and was met with the same green eyes as her own. "I'm loosing it," Clary mumbled. "I've already lost it."

"Shh," he said, burying his face in her curls. "Stop it; you're not crazy," Clary looked up at him, her eyes slightly blurry with tears. "My brother died three years ago," she said. He shook his head, his eyes glossy. "I knew I shouldn't have left. Look at you," he muttered, holding her tighter. Clary knew that Jonathan would be gone-he wasn't real, after all-soon, so she hugged him back, needing the comfort from her brother. Something she'd missed since he'd died.

"Don't leave me," Clary cried into his shirt, soaking it with her tears, knowing she looked like a complete lunatic; talking to the air, and all. He rubbed circles on her back. "I won't," he said quietly. "P-please," Clary cried even harder-if that was possible. "I need you back. I need my brother."

"And I need my sister," he said. "Clary, I'm not dead, I promise. This is me, I'm alive," he said. "No you aren't," Clary mumbled into his shirt. "I'm imagining you, I'm going crazy."

He ran his fingers through her curls, brushing them out-just like he always used to do. "I wish you really were here," Clary went on. "I miss you so much," she pulled away from him, seeing the big wet spot on his white, long-sleeve shirt, she felt even more heat rise to her cheeks, surely making her look like a fire truck. "Clary, what will it take to prove I'm real?" Jonathan asked, bending down to be on her level. She shook her head at him. "Stop it." She demanded. "Stop saying you're real, I know you aren't."

Jonathan gave a frustrated sigh, and walked up to a woman-maybe in her early twenties-with brown hair, pinned up, out of her face. She gave Clary a worried look, noticing the tears streaking her face. "Excuse me," Jonathan said, catching the attention of the woman, she went blank, her cheeks turning slightly red-Jonathan had always had that effect on girls. "Y-yes?" The woman stuttered. "Could you give me directions to Main Street?" He asked. The woman nodded, and proceeded to rattle off a series of directions, and he promptly thanked her, returning to Clary. She smiled weakly, and shook her head at him, "Jon, you're dead."

"I am not dead," he said, firmly, sounding a little angry. "Clarissa, look at me," he commanded. Clary met his eyes, he was looking her up and down, worriedly. "You are not hallucinating, and I am as real as can be. Now, tell me, why are you in Virginia?"

Clary laughed, dryly, and somewhat bitterly. "Summer vacation, Jon," she said, growing tired. "Now, tell me," she started. "How you are alive."

Jon sighed. "Sit down," he pulled her to a bench near where they stood. Clary fell into the bench, all those nights without sleep, and restless sleep, setting in. She yawned. "Do you remember the crash?" he asked. Clary shrugged. "Depends, are you going to tell me the true version, or the one I know?" He gave her a curious look. "Either way," he began. "I didn't die, Dad did. I was unconscious, and barely breathing. Mom thought I was going to die, but I didn't. I woke up days before you, and Mom had told everyone I had died, because she didn't want me to get stuck looking after Dad's company-although, there was probably a less extreme thing to say, than that. I wanted to stay, wait beside you until you woke up, but Mom shipped me off to college here, in Virginia.

"When I told Mom I was coming home for Christmas break, the first year, she said I couldn't. Said you thought I was dead, and it would overwhelm you when you found out I wasn't. I didn't understand why, not until the next year, when I asked again. She said no, and I demanded an explanation. Do you know what Mom told me?" Clary shook her head, and waited impatiently for him to continue.

"She said the crash screwed with your memory, did you know that?" He asked, his tone gentle, but somewhat angry. "I just found out. Today," Clary answered bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. He gave her a sympathetic look. "Do you remember anything? At all?" Jonathan asked.

"Most things, it only screwed with parts of my memory, Jon," Clary replied. He grabbed her hands, holding them between his. "I wanted to see you so bad, Clare," Jonathan said, his tone quiet, gentle. Clary felt tears well in her eyes again, hearing him call her that nickname, brought back so many memories, and she couldn't help but wonder what other memories were associate with the name. The ones she didn't remember.

Clary threw herself into Jonathan's arms, clinging to him for dear life. Her breathing coming in short, gasping breaths. Jonathan held her tightly, rubbing her back again, whispering soothing words in her ears. "Where are you staying, Clary?" He asked, as she sat up. Her eyelids felt heavy, and moving her legs felt like moving bricks. "Um," Clary said, trying to focus. "Beach house, by the lake," Clary said. He nodded, and grabbed her hand.

* * *

Jonathan knocked on the door, holding a sleeping Clary in his arms. There was rustling from behind the door, and then it was flung open. "Clary?" Isabelle asked, and then looked up, to see Jonathan. She was speechless. "Jonathan?" Isabelle asked. "Hi, Isabelle," he said. "Can I come in?" He motioned to the sleeping Clary, that he held tightly to.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Isabelle stepped aside, holding the door open for him. Jonathan stepped inside, careful not to hit Clary on anything. "Is that biscuit?" Magnus called, and stopped dead in his tracks, looking from Jonathan, to the sleeping Clary in his arms. "Jonathan?" Magnus asked, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. "You are dead," Magnus pointed out. "I am _not_ dead," Jonathan pointed out. "Now, where is her room?"

"Follow me," Isabelle said, and she quickly dashed up the steps, followed by Jonathan, who walked slower, as he was holding Clary. Her red curls hanging over his arm, waving around in the air as he walked. He had missed her so much.

Isabelle was standing in a bedroom on the left end of the hall. He pushed thorough the door, and placed Clary on the bed that he knew by instinct was hers; the one with messy blankets an sheets. He pulled the blanket over her, and kissed her forehead gently, before turning back to Isabelle, who was watching him intensely. She quickly turned, walking out of the room. Jonathan followed her, down the stairs, and turning to his right, into a living room, it seemed.

He recognized everyone sitting in the room immediately; Alec Lightwood, Jace Herondale, and Magnus Bane. They all looked at him, Magnus was less surprised than he had been, moments earlier, while Alec and Jace were staring at him incredulously.

"You are supposed to be dead," Alec gulped, pointing at him. Jonathan smirked slightly. "So I'm told."

There was silence, as everyone just watched Jonathan in somewhat of an amazed and confused state. "Where was she?" Isabelle finally asked. She was sitting on the couch, beside Alec, her right leg crossed over top of her left, as she picked at her cuticles. "I found her walking around, talking to herself," Jonathan replied. "It was like she was talking to me," he continued. "And then I actually started talking, and she kept saying I was dead."

"Aren't you supposed to be?" Jace asked, and Jonathan looked at him, remembering all the time he had been over at the house, the time he had been Clary's best friend. It was impossible to believe that anymore, though.

"I hope you've all taken care of her," Jonathan said, ignoring Jace's question, but his eyes still landed on the boy, giving him an accusing look. "She's my best friend, Jonathan, what do you think?" Isabelle said, rubbing at her temples, bending over slightly, so her inky hair fell around her like a curtain. "I thought best friend was Jace's department," Jonathan said, leaning back into the chair he'd sat in. "She doesn't remember," Jace said, his voice low, and a little angry.

"There's nothing we can do about it, Jace," Alec sighed. "Don't you think we would have done something, if there was something _to_ be done?" Jace looked resigned, and tired, as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to bed," Isabelle said, and trudged up the stairs, her expression wistful.

Jonathan didn't blame Isabelle, for feeling such a way. He had felt it every day since leaving Clary behind. She was his little sister, after all. His family. And he needed her.

* * *

 **Here's the new chapter! You guys got me to 100 reviews so fast! I'm so happy with the feed back I'm getting. It makes me smile so much, you have no idea.**

 **Plot twist, after plot twist with me, huh guys? You _must_ hate me by now. **

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	15. Dreaming

There was loud noises coming from downstairs, waking Clary. It was not the way she would have enjoyed waking up, but the noise only got louder. It sounded like a dying whale's mating call, and Clary fought the urge to cover her ears, and shout at whoever was making that incessant racket, to shut the Hell up.

Isabelle was sleeping soundly in the bed next to her, and Clary wondered if she was deaf, because you could have heard the noise from fifty miles away. But all Isabelle did was make a low noise in her throat, and turn her body, so her back was to Clary, her hair completely obscuring her face from view. Clary suddenly found herself wondering how she had gotten back to the house, let alone gotten to bed. She vaguely remembered seeing Jonathan...but he was dead. End of story. Someone had probably found her, and brought her back with them. She looked down at herself, seeing the clothes she had been wearing for a few days, now, made her wonder.

But then, there was the sound of a dying whale, which in all honesty probably needed more attention than her days old clothes. Clary padded across the room, rubbing at her eyes, which were screaming at her to go back to sleep, and opened the door. The sound only got louder, and this time, Clary did cover her ears like a five year-old. She walked down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where a boy, about Jace's height or so, with fair hair stood, flipping something in a pan, as he sang at the top of his lungs.

Clary took a few steps back, bumping her head on the wall. She cursed under her breath, but apparently, it had been enough to stop the horrendous singing. Jonathan stood there, well, and alive and healthy. And _alive_. That was what Clary didn't believe. "I thought it was a dream," she mumbled. "I've really lost it, haven't I?" Jonathan put down the spatula he held in his right hand, and took a tentative step towards her. Clary felt herself clinging to the wall, as if it could shield her from her most certain craziness. Her own delusions. "If you've lost it, so have I," said a voice from someone behind her. Jace emerged, running a tired hand through his halo of golden hair. "He's dead," Clary said, moving away from the wall. She ran a hand through her hair-which hadn't been brushed in a little over two days. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on!"

Jonathan ran a hand through his white-blonde hair, closing his eyes for a split second. The only thing that was similar about them was their green eyes, and fair skin. But of course, Jonathan had gotten lucky, and there wasn't a freckle on him. No one would believe they were related, not a chance. "Clary, calm down, please," he pleaded with her. "Just-just don't start having a mental breakdown."

"I am not that unstable," Clary crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a stubborn look, that told him arguing with her would be pointless. "And if you even bring up last night, I'll have to remind you that you are supposedly dead," Clary pointed an accusing finger at him. A small cloud of slightly blackened smoke was gathering behind Jonathan. "I think your food is burning," Clary added, as a last thought, before she turned and left the kitchen. She remembered the reason she had been out last night, and suddenly couldn't fight down the anger that boiled in the pit of her stomach.

It was something of a punishment, not knowing if who she was now, was really who she was. It could just be someone's remodeled version of herself, and as it seemed, she would never know for sure. She would certainly not be talking to anyone for a while, not until she could manage to look at them for longer than two minutes, without almost turning green with anger.

Clary was prepared to leave the house, just like that-but then she remembered her hair probably looked disgusting, and her clothes were full of sand, still. And more importantly, she needed a shower.

-*#*-

Her hair had been Hell to brush through. But now, as she pulled a baggy tee over her head, she felt so much better-cleaner. The shower had been refreshing, and during the whole ordeal, Isabelle was still sleeping soundly. Like a brick.

Clary didn't bother waking Isabelle, before slipping on her shoes, grabbing some cash, and slipping downstairs, out the door. Undetected. Those boys would never pass for cops, that was for sure. Not very attentive whatsoever. Clary felt a small surge of triumph, until she remembered, she didn't remember. And it made her wonder, just how _much_ she was actually missing, how many things she'd forgotten.

But what could she do?

Nothing. She could do nothing, and it made her itch with anger. Clary took a deep breath, pushing down the anger bubbling within herself, as she wandered her way back into the main part of the small town. Once again, she found herself at the small bakery, the one squished in between the Men's clothing warehouse, and the bookstore.

When Clary opened the door, her nose was assaulted by the delicious smells of fresh-baked pastries. She felt the corner's of her mouth quirk up, as she closed her eyes for a moment. And then, she stepped inside of the bakery, watching the girl from yesterday, as she put a tray of cupcakes in the oven, and closed the door. She wiped her hands off, on the black apron she wore.

The girl's eyes flicked upwards, and her face broke into a friendly smile, when she noticed Clary, who was looking at the menu briefly. "Back for more?" The girl grinned. Clary offered a weak smile in return. "Definitely," Clary replied. "What do you want?" The girl asked, her eyes flickering to a door at the side. "Can I get another box of red velvet?" Clary asked, digging in her pocket for the money she had only just slipped in. "Sure-but, I'll get Sebastian to serve you, okay? My shift just ended."

Clary nodded, holding the money tightly in the palm of her hand. The girl offered a small smile, before she slipped through the side door, and Clary wondered where it went. Just as the door started to fall shut, a messy-haired boy rushed through. He was tying the apron around the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes, and nearly tripping over his own feet. He was kind of cute.

He looked up, a bashful expression decorated his features. His face lit up, when he saw Clary. His dark eyes were lit up, in a way Clary had only seen on Isabelle, when she saw her favourite pair of shoes. It was utterly adorable, and Clary wanted to giggle a little bit. "Clary?" he asked. "Sebastian?" she mimicked him, as he brushed dark hair out of his eyes. "I didn't know you could bake," Clary said, after a moment. He shrugged, looking back up at her, from the cash register. "I can't. Not really. It's Maia that does most of the baking."

Clary cocked her head to the side a little bit, as she watched him click a few buttons on the register. "If you can't bake, why do you work in a bakery?" She tried to raise an eyebrow at him, but ended up raising both. All or nothing, right? "I'm better with people," he said, his eyes trained on his work, but Clary could have sworn she saw them flick up. "I can't even make ice," he laughed slightly at himself. "Not even ice?" Clary teased, leaning on the glass counter in between them. "Nope." Sebastian said. "I put the tray in the freezer, and when I went to get an ice cube later, there was frozen water all over my food."

Clary laughed a little, as she covered her mouth with her hand. She caught the corner's of his mouth quirking up, as she laughed. "Can I get some red velvet cupcakes?" Clary finally asked. He nodded, looking up, meeting her gaze for a second. "Of course," he said, and disappeared from view for a few minutes, before he came back, holding a box of six cupcakes. "How much do I owe you?" Clary asked, as he placed the box on the glass counter. "Nothing," he said simply. Clary's eyes widened at him. "I'm paying you," she said firmly. "That girl already gave me a free box, yesterday, so, yes. I'm paying."

He chuckled, a low sound, as he looked up at her. "No," he said. "I won't take it." Clary gave him a smile, before taking the cupcake box, and placing her money on the counter. She turned back to the door, holding the box of cupcakes. She grabbed for the door handle, pulling it open, as she looked over her shoulder, to Sebastian, who still hadn't touched the money. "I'm paying," Clary said, before she left, letting the glass door swing shut behind herself.

* * *

There was chatter coming from the kitchen, which was not unusual in the slightest. Clary walked into the kitchen, greeted by Magnus, who had turned his attention to her, and was eyeing the box of cupcakes she held. "I hope those are for me, biscuit," he said. Clary scoffed. "You wish," she replied, but clutched the box tighter. "Then for me?" Isabelle chimed in. "Everyone," Clary corrected, eyeing Jonathan, who was trying to scrape something burnt out of the frying pan. "Even the blonde boy, who woke me up with his God awful singing."

Jonathan turned, and grinned at her. It was the same grin she remembered, the one that had always seemed comforting, in it's own way. "One condition," Clary pointed at him. "No more singing; you sound like a dying whale," Alec laughed at this, alerting Clary of his presence. He brushed some inky hair-identical to Isabelle's-out of his face. "I do not," Jonathan protested. "Oh, you so do," Clary countered, a memory fading in, like a dream, almost; Jonathan sitting in the passenger seat of their Dad's car, the air bag pressed tightly to him, he looked lifeless. She remembered a pain, in her ribs, her legs, and an incessant pounding in her head. Slowly, Jonathan's head lifted up, from where it rested on the slowly deflating airbag. "Clare," he choked out, his voice strained. "I love you." Just the memory of those words-the way he said them, as if they may be his last-was painful, all on its own.

Clary found herself, wrapping her arms tightly to herself, the box of cupcakes dropping to the floor. She felt the intensity of the pain she had been experiencing, as fresh as newly drawn blood. It must have been the accident-in what other memory was her father sitting motionless in the driver seat, bleeding out slowly?

"Clary?" Jonathan's voice breaks through the thick barrier of memory, the thick haze of it all. "Clary, are you okay?" Isabelle's concerned tone breaks through the haziness even more, drawing Clary back. Clary swallowed, her throat dry, and her head whirling uncontrollably. "Couldn't be better," she forced out, even trying a weak smile. She kicked the box of cupcakes towards Magnus' barstool, and he bent down to retrieve them. "Enjoy them," she said, before running for the door. She needed to be away from everyone-everyone who knew everything she didn't.

It seemed like no matter how many deep breaths she took, it wasn't enough oxygen. Not enough. She felt like she was choking, without air. Clary grasped, shakily, for the door knob. She tried to keep her breathing even, but it just wasn't working. She pulled the door open, expecting to feel the calming breeze blowing her hair, the warm sun on her skin, but she felt nothing. She looked-actually looked-seemingly coming out of her haze of memory. Jace stood there, looking down at her, with an eyebrow raised. Clary didn't feel like talking; she didn't think she could even manage a conversation at the moment. Quickly, and none too gracefully, she ducked out of his way, finding herself looking at the stairs.

Her feet pounded lightly down them, reaching the bottom in record time. There laying the sand, was her black-covered sketch book, and pack of pencils. She picked them up, shaking out most of the sand, but the rest would have to wait.

Clary found herself wandering down the beach, until she came upon a spot where there were tall, gray rocks. Easy to hide behind. Not that she was hiding, or anything...

She sat down, leaning her back against it. The sand was slightly damp, but that was probably because the rocks were fairly close to the shore. Small waves came rolling in, crashing at the shore, as Clary watched. She had intended to draw them, but when she looked down at her completed drawing, it was most certainly not waves, or the people swimming in the water. Oh, no, it was so much more attention grabbing. So awful, so terribly accurate.

It was times like this, Clary found herself wishing she was as talentless with a pencil and paper as her father. A time when she remembered what her mother's good friend, Luke, had said to her once. _You're just like your mother, that way; you see the beauty in horrible things_. It made her shiver, the actuality of the statement. But now, Clary wondered if it had been a warning, more so than a mere statement, or compliment.

She had drawn her memory.

It was her view from the backseat, where the interior of the car was squished in, on either side. Her father's head turned back to look at her, blood pouring down the door, onto the floor in the backseat. She knew, now, what had happened to cause the crash; they had been talking, laughing, with their father, and he had been looking back at Clary, as he laughed. His smile was vibrant, reminding her so much of Jonathan, as he ran the red light. He wasn't paying attention, and by the time Jonathan got out his warning, it was too late; two cars had crashed into them, from either side. One on Jonathan's side, and one on Clary's. The car had done the most damage to the driver's seat, where her father sat. The airbags had went off, pushing his already-motionless body even further into his seat. His head turned back to look at Clary, as blood poured out of his side, down the side of the door, from where she door had pierced his body. It was horrible.

When Clary came out of her vivid recall of the crash, her face was streaked with tears, gushing from her eyes endlessly. She pulled on her hair, tangling it together, as she covered her face with it. Sobs wracked her body, as she tried to keep quiet. It wasn't working, and she didn't care anymore.

Of all the things she could have remembered, she remembered that? If she was going to remember something as awful as this, she didn't want to remember. Not at all. Screw everything else, this was too much. Too much.

* * *

Clary had sat outside, crying, longer than she would ever admit. It was only when the sun started to set, she decided it would be best to go back inside. She held her sketch book tightly shut at her side. No one could see what was inside, no one could see her drawing. Otherwise, they would get their hopes up, and be utterly devastated when she didn't remember anything else.

This time, there was no chatter emanating from the kitchen, only the occasional clinking of what she assumed were dishes. Curiosity got the better of her, as she wandered into the kitchen, only to see Isabelle emptying the dishwasher, placing the dishes into the cupboards. "Damn boys," Isabelle muttered. "So lazy."

Clary increased her grip on her sketch book, as she hoped up onto the counter. She put the sketch book on her lap, setting the pencils-nearly worn down to the nub from her sketching so much while she cried-on the counter beside her. Isabelle's obsidian eyes flicked up to her, as she pulled the dishwasher shut. "Where have you been?" Isabelle asked, almost sounding like a parent about to scold their child. "Sketching," Clary replied, tapping the cover of the book nervously-of course Isabelle didn't know that. "Is that why your eyes are all red and puffy?" Isabelle raised an accusing eyebrow at her. Clary shrugged, feeling her pulse increase rapidly.

"You were crying," Isabelle said, scrunching her eyebrows together in thought. She didn't get any time to make accusations, though, because Magnus intervened. _Thank God_. "Biscuit!" He exclaimed. "You look exhausted; time for bed," he said, a little too cheerily for Clary's liking. but she shrugged all the same, and followed him out of the kitchen, up the stairs, in silence, until her bedroom door shut behind Magnus.

"Spill." He demanded. Clary looked up at him, every ounce of colouring gone from her face. "W-what?" She stuttered, even though she knew exactly what he meant. "You were crying," Magnus said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why?"

Clary took a deep breath, preparing to explain. She knew if anyone could keep a secret, it was Magnus. "Promise me you won't tell anyone, or I won't say anything," Clary said softly, slipping her fingers just under the cover of her sketch book. He nodded. "Fine, I promise."

Clary opened the sketch book, as she walked over to him, flipping to the page that showed the horribly graphic scene of the car crash. She handed the book to him. His eyes landed on the drawing, and he went utterly white. "You remember?" He looked up, his gold-green eyes wide. Clary shook her head. "No. Only this," she said quietly. "You're sure there's nothing else you remember?" Magnus prodded.

"Nothing else," Clary swallowed, her eyelids feeling heavy, just like the rest of her body. Tired, and just cried out. "Alright," Magnus handed her back the sketch book. She closed it, and climbed into bed, flicking off the lamp. "Night, Magnus," she whispered. "Goodnight, biscuit," Magnus whispered against her cheek, as he gave her a gentle kiss on the temple.

Just when Clary thought she could cry no more, a few tears slipped out, and soaked into her pillow. Her eyes closed, and she was pulled into a restless sleep, full of the crash, on loop.

* * *

 _His laugh echoed through the car, making Clary smile, as Jonathan smiled ahead, at the road. Her father held the steering wheel, turning it to the left. They were taking Jonathan to look at a college in New York, a higher-end one, that had an amazing Art program, that Clary one day hoped to get into. Jonathan may have been her twin, but they were so different; he had the intelligence of a college student, a prodigy, really-he was probably smarter than that-and he was useless with a paint brush. He was so persuasive, too, just like their father. The only things they had in common, were their green eyes, ivory skin tone, and how protective they were._

 _"Maybe they'll send him back to high school," Clary joked, and Jonathan laughed, his obsidian eyes lighting up. They reminded her of Isabelle's, except his were a few shades darker, if that. Her father turned back to look at her, his laughter sounding out again, he was smiling at her._

 _There was screeching, like the sound of tires, and the honk of a few horns, before Jonathan spoke urgently, "Dad, look out! Stop!"_

 _But it was too late; a car had run into the driver's side of the car, squishing it almost completely. The doors were jagged, and a piece, Clary could tell, had impaled her father. It must have punctured his lung, because he gave a cough, his face still turned to Clary. Blood coated her jeans, a thick spray of the warm substance over the leather backseat of the car. Clary squeaked out, "Daddy," before his head dropped, his eyes still open, blood dripping down his chin, onto the carpet of the car. Everything seemed to move in slow motion; more screeching, the car sliding slightly, and then before Clary knew what was happening, the other side of the car was being run into. The air bags went off, pushing her father's lifeless body further into his seat, a horrible crunching noise coming from Jonathan's nose, as it started pouring blood. The red liquid coated the white airbag, and his dark blue shirt. He turned his head, as if it pained him, to look at Clary. "Clare," he choked out. "I love you."_

 _Clary wanted to say something back, but no words would come, only tears. And that was when she felt it; the horrible pain in her ribs, the pain in her leg, that was awful, but could not compare to the pain she felt in her ribs. And then there was the incessant, painful pounding in her head, like having a migraine. But much, much worse. Her door was jagged as well, and poking her in the sides, but nothing like her father, whose blood was dripping down the door, into the backseat. She could hear screaming, and shouting, and sirens, but it was all a blur, and suddenly, her eyes felt very heavy...she was so tired...and dark spots danced around her eyes. All the noises blurred together, into white noise, as she shut her eyes, her head falling heavily against the window._

* * *

 **Hey guys, so I just started school again, and haven't really had the time to update, but since it's the weekend...Here you go!**

 **I felt bad about not updating, so I included Clary's dream-what do you think? What do you think she'll remember next? Or will she even remember anything?**

 **Oh, and 150 reviews! I can't believe it!**

 **Next update at, hmm...let's see here...250 reviews? And I'll throw in a little something extra if I get to 350, how's that sound?**

 **Impossible? Probably. But I swear on the Angel that I'm going to try and keep the updates coming, even with school-might only be on weekends, though.**

 **Until next time, enjoy!**

 **P.S.**

 **I would like to give a special mention to the following; clarissa adele Herondale- a spectacular reviewer**

 **Wills Porn Toast, because, well, your first review made me smile. And plus, that is the best user I've heard so far.**

 **Also, ile de beaute, my first French reviewer! Btw, I speak French, so feel free to leave a review in French!**

 **And I can't forget Acctantnerd, because I couldn't remember the name of what Clary had; selective amnesia.**

 **So, keep the reviews coming!**


	16. A Very Long Day

The morning had gone by quickly; waking from her seemingly endless nightmare, being forced to change into a bathing suit. It was the bright green one she'd worn last time they'd went swimming. Clary pulled a pair of shorts over top of the bottoms, her silver anklet catching her eye-she always seemed to forget about it-she never took it off. But the strange thing, she couldn't really remember who she'd gotten it from, or why. She usually shrugged it off, but kept her gaze on it a little longer, and tied her hair up into a pony tail. She took a look at herself in the mirror; there were dark circles under her eyes, and she just _looked_ exhausted. Like she hadn't had a decent nights sleep in a while. Quickly, Clary applied some water-proof concealer to her under eyes. At least now, she didn't look like diseased racoon.

"Clary," Isabelle sing-songed from the other side of the bathroom door. "Hurry up, we'll leave with out you," she warned. Clary rolled her eyes. "I'm so worried," she replied, sarcasm dripping from every orifices of her body. She heard Isabelle let out an annoyed puff of air, and left the bathroom. The house was quiet, save for the opening of the front door. Clary slathered on some sunscreen, and snatched up her towel. Despite her lack of sleep, Clary dashed down the stairs, and swung open the front door, closing it behind herself.

Isabelle and Jonathan were waiting by the bottom of the stairs, silence surrounding them. Isabelle looked up, and let out a quiet breath of relief. "Where is Magnus?" Clary asked, looking towards the beach, thinking that perhaps they had decided to leave without Isabelle, Jonathan and her. But, no. There was no one wearing brightly-coloured swim shorts on the beach-not that she could see, anyway. Isabelle shrugged in reply, muttering something about a glitter shortage.

Clary could hear her phone ringing from the open upstairs window, but she had no intention of going to answer it. It was probably her mom, and she was angry with her, and the last thing she wanted to do was scream at her mom. Clary shook it off, exhaling a deep breath, and then she spoke, "What about Satan's off-spring?" Because, of course, Alec would have been dragged along to purchase more glitter. Jonathan laughed, but caught Isabelle's annoyed glare, and stopped. "I don't know, he went out early this morning. Haven't seen him since."

"Perfect, hopefully I won't have to see him anytime soon," Clary said, and began walking down to the beach.

-*#*-

Swimming had been dull, and lifeless without Magnus, it was almost sad how bored they got after only half an hour. So now, Clary found herself walking back to the bakery, Isabelle at her side, Jonathan trailing behind slightly. "Is this where you've been disappearing to?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow, as Clary pushed open the door to the bakery, subconsciously clutching tighter to her towel. "You tasted the cupcakes," Clary retorted. "That should be reason enough."

"Can't argue with that," Jonathan added, looking around the bakery. And-just in time-a mess of black hair, sneakers, and a messy apron stumbled through the side door, all but tripping on his feet. He looked up sheepishly, his eyes lighting up when he saw Clary. "I thought you didn't bake?" Clary motioned to his flour-covered apron, which may or may not have had a swatch of chocolate icing on it. She was faintly amused. He stuttered a little, searching for the words to reply to her. In response, though, he simply shrugged. And then, the girl-Maia, she'd learned-came through the door, too, wiping her hands off on her apron, she grinned when she saw Clary.

"Seb told me you wouldn't leave without paying him," she grinned even more, if that was possible. Clary felt a blush rising into her cheeks, and failed to stop it. "He told me that he couldn't bake to save his life," Clary retorted after a moment, as Jonathan seemingly admired the menu board overhead. Maia laughed hysterically at this, bending over, tears streaking her cheeks, the whole bit. She even went as far as to slap her thighs, and look up at Sebastian, and laugh even more. "Him-can't bake?" Maia asked, almost rhetorically. " _I'm_ the one that can't bake. I just icing things."

Isabelle seemed fairly amused by the whole situation, Clary noticed, as she looked over at her friend, who she had forgotten was even there. She was being so quiet. It was abnormal, for Isabelle. Clary feigned hurt, "You lied?"

Sebastian bit his lip slightly, and looked down at the cash register, before his gaze flickered back up, his eyes shadowed by his long, thick eyelashes. She was so jealous that boys got the perfect lashes. "What can I get you?" He asked. Clary tapped her lip, looking over at Jonathan and Isabelle, who both said "Red velvet," in such close time, Clary's eyes widened, as she watched Isabelle and Jonathan give each other questioning looks. Sebastian punched something into the register, and looked back up at them all, as if taking them in. "So, a six pack for you, your boyfriend, and friend?" He raised an eyebrow.

Clary laughed a little bit, as Jonathan visibly paled. "My twin," he choked out, still shocked, to say the least. Sebastian looked faintly amused, through his shock. "No way, you two look nothing alike." Jonathan stood beside Clary now, the height difference was weighing heavily in Clary's mind, making her all too aware of her shortness. "He looks like our dad," Clary pointed to him for a second, and then focused her attention back to Sebastian.

"Okay, then," Sebastian said, slightly awkwardly, and he left through the side door again. It swung slightly behind Sebastian, and Clary noticed that Maia had gone, and that Isabelle was staring longingly at the menu board. Was that _drool_ on her chin?

Isabelle snapped her attention back to Clary. "He's so into you!" She squealed. Clary's eyes widened, and her blush could put her hair to shame. "Shh!" Clary hissed. "Shut up! He can probably hear you," she tried, but Isabelle looked far away, as she sang-like a child, "Sebastian likes Clary, Sebastian likes Clary, Sebastian likes Clary!"

Clary was about ready to punch Isabelle in the face, when Jonathan stepped in. "No, no way. She's not old enough to date," he moved in front of her, as if protecting her from Isabelle "bad influence" as people sometimes put it. "Too late for that," Isabelle sing-songed. " _What_?" Jonathan demanded, whirling on Clary. She held up her hands I defence. "I've never had a boyfriend," Clary said, through gritted teeth, as she shot Isabelle a glare. If looks could kill...

"But Isabelle likes to pretend, don't you, Iz?" Clary said, cocking her head to the side slightly. Now all the attention in the small room had shifted to Isabelle, who had stopped her incessant singing, and was giving Jonathan a look, one mixed with annoyance, and that said, _really_?

"You know, these walls are paper thin," Sebastian informed them, and Clary spun around, clutching her chest in shock. She let her eyes close, as her heart rate slowed itself. "Sorry about her," Clary jerked her head in Isabelle's general direction. "Actually, I'm just going to apologize in advance for anything my friends may do, okay?"

Sebastian laughed a little bit, a small dimple appearing on his face. "Here you go," Sebastian held the box out to Clary, she took a hold of it, while digging through her pocket for her money. And before Sebastian could protest, Clary slammed the loose change, and crinkled bills onto the glass counter. The loose change made a loud-enough-noise, as it fell onto the glass, Clary removed her hand from over top of the pile of money. She gave Sebastian a challenging look, daring him to try and refuse. He didn't.

Clary smiled sweetly at him, as she turned to leave, giving him a wave over her shoulder. "Keep the change," she said, as her hand made contact with the cold metal of the door handle. She pulled it open, and stepped onto the moderately clean sidewalk, Isabelle and Jonathan in tow.

* * *

They ended up sitting in the park, the small one they'd found that day when Jace had been chasing them. Isabelle actually seemed to be enjoying Jonathan's company now, as they all sat on the bright green grass, under the shade of a large tree-what kind, she had no idea. The cupcakes were delicious, and all of them were on their second, Clary and Isabelle savouring theirs, as Jonathan all but inhaled his. He then proceeded to try and steal Clary's from the box, where she'd put it down, as she put her hair into a fishtail braid at the side of her head.

Clary smacked his hand away quickly, almost as an instinct, after he had tied off the end of the braid. "Brother or not," Clary said, picking up the cupcake, and taking a bite. "Never touch my food." Isabelle snorted at that. "She almost cut off my fingers once," and when Jonathan looked at her in disbelief, Isabelle held up a hand, wriggling around her fingers. "True story. She was cutting p some brownies, and I tried to steal one. Almost took off four of my damn fingers."

It was Clary's turn to snort. "Drama queen," she muttered. "Am not!" Isabelle retaliated. "Are too," Clary said, taking another bite of her cupcake. Jonathan looked fairly amused by the whole situation. Clary swiveled her body around, so that she could get a better look at him; he was still Jonathan, still her brother. Except now, he looked older, he was taller, more muscular, and his fair hair fell to about his ears, covering his eyes at times.

"So tell me, dearest brother, why mom went to such extreme lengths to keep you from inheriting the family business-that she now runs, might I add," Clary said, but it turned into more of a question. Jonathan took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair, it was a moment of intense silence before he spoke. "Dad was a good man, he was," Jonathan said finally. It was true, too.

"But, he was into some bad things with the family business," Jonathan continued. "I knew, figured it out right after the crash, but they tried to keep it from us, Mom and Dad. Mom, because she didn't want us to think less of her or Dad. But, Dad, because he thought you were too 'fragile' to hear it," Clary scowled at her brother. "His words, not mine. Dad started telling me about it, a couple weeks before the crash, as if he anticipated it to happen. He seemed so frantic about it, like something bad was going to happen to him any day."

Isabelle was listening intently, as curious about Clary and Jonathan's past as Clary was-Clary probably more so, considering she didn't remember it properly. "I'm not sure what he was into exactly, but I know he did some dirty transactions, and when he told them he wouldn't do it anymore, whoever it was sent him a few threats. Quite a few involving us and Mom." Clary gaped at Jonathan. How did he know all this? How could he keep all this from her?

Jonathan shook his head, as if to clear it of the cobwebs of days past. "I'll tell you more, not today, though," he said. "You're probably still getting over me _not_ being dead, and all." Clary gave him an incredulous look, "No duh, Sherlock," she said.

"Do you guys want to go back to the house?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow at them. Jonathan wiped his hands off on his pants, as he stood up. "Sorry, maybe another time. I have to get back to my apartment, school starts next month," he said. It didn't really surprise Clary-nothing did, at this point-Jonathan was a genius, after all. Not that she'd admit that to his face. Clary almost wanted to beg him not to leave her again, but not in front of Isabelle, not in public. But she really didn't think she could handle Jonathan leaving her again. So, she stood up, and wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach him. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Please don't leave me again," Clary whispered in his ear, tears prickling the back of her eyes, and blurring her vision.

Jonathan rubbed her back, up and down, "I wouldn't leave you if you let me, Clare," Jonathan whispered back. Clary nodded, although it was kind of hard, considering his shoulder was right under her chin. Some tears fell down her cheeks, against her will, and onto his shirt. Jonathan pulled back from her, and she fell back flat on her feet, looking up at him. "Don't cry, okay? Please," Jonathan said, wiping away the remaining tears from her face with his thumb. Despite his fingers being ruff, and calloused from what she could only guess was work, or some pass time he enjoyed, his touch was gentle, just as it had always been. "I'll come visit you, as soon as I can. Promise," Clary nodded, swallowing the pleas she wanted to scream out to him, not to leave her ever, not even for school.

"Bye, Clare," he said, as he stared walking away, backwards. Clary wondered how he was able to do it without running into anybody, because if it was her doing it, she'd surely run into everybody, and _thing_ in this park. "Bye, Isabelle," he added, as a most certain after thought, but Isabelle didn't seem to mind. She was brushing off her shirt, which had small bits of grass on it, since she had lain down on the grass.

"Shall we?" Isabelle asked, holding out for Clary to take. "We shall," Clary cracked a smile, and laced her arm through Isabelle's. They walked through the park, and soon found themselves back at the house, which seemed alive with energy-and not the good kind. There were screams coming from inside. Yelling, as if there were a contest; The next louder than the one before.

Clary could easily identify Magnus' voice, as he hollered at someone, and then Alec's, and then Jace's. She wondered what on earth they were arguing about. Probably who ate the last bag of chips, that would inevitably run out sometime-much to the boys' dismay. Clary and Isabelle winced, as the shouting match seemingly reached it's climax, and the shouting came to the loudest Clary thought she had ever heard it. Reluctantly, though, Clary and Isabelle walked up the front steps, and hesitantly, Isabelle pushed on the front door. It didn't budge. Locked.

Clary and Isabelle both cursed loudly, but both of them were cancelled out by the screaming match inside. The worst part about being locked out? They didn't have their keys, and there was no way to get the boys' attention, save for out-screaming them, which was definitely something they were good at...A wicked grin spread across Isabelle's model features. Clary knew her face probably mirrored Isabelle's, as they found their way to the back door, which for some reason they had yet to use, and pretty much ignored. It opened right by the kitchen, just by the stairs, most likely where the screaming match was taking place.

"Why would you do that!" Clary could hear Alec yell at the top of his lungs, no doubt trying to get his point across to someone-most likely Jace-because, Alec being himself; a quiet, calm person, hardly yelled for anything. Luckily, the back door was unlocked, Clary had no idea why, because if they hadn't used it, it should be locked. But maybe that was how Jace had been getting in and out unnoticed.

"You know she was devastated when he died!" Alec hollered, and Clary and Isabelle winced, their proximity not helping the loudness of the shouts. "What did you want me to do? He's just going to leave her again!" Jace shouted back.

"So you had to tell that other guy to back off, too?" Magnus' voice topped Alec and Jace's petty argument, he had always had strong lungs, Clary knew. She remembered from the time when she had to go pick him up from a bar, to find him completely, absolutely _hammered_ , singing Mariah Carey karaoke on stage, from the top of his lungs. Which, to say the least, was loud. So when Magnus was yelling like this, purposely, seemingly even louder than then, Clary _knew_ that something was wrong.

"I don't know what is wrong with you!" Alec shouted. "You kiss her, and then go an sleep with _who_ _knows_ how many other girls! All you're doing is making things worse!" She had a sickening feeling that they were talking about her, hopefully, though, they weren't. With her stomach in knots, and Isabelle at her side, they glanced at each other, and nodded, agreeing that they were going to do this. Clary guessed that the boys were in the kitchen, but from where they were standing, the kitchen might as well have been invisible for all they could see.

"I haven't slept with any girls since coming here, I'll have you know, Alexander!" Jace hollered in response. Isabelle walked forward, into the kitchen, Clary at her side. Sure enough, there stood Alec, his cheeks definitely could put a fire truck to shame, as he seethed angrily at Jace, his glare deadly. Magnus stood further away, his cheeks red, as well-which meant something, considering Magnus never had any colour, save for the natural one, in his cheeks-and then Jace stood on the opposite side of the room. His black t-shirt wrinkled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and a very, _very_ deadly glare pointed towards Alec and Magnus. One of Ale's hands gripped the side of the counter, turning his hand a pure white, which couldn't be good.

"Are you sure about that?" Alec asked, venom soaked his words, as he spat them at Jace, as if disgusted by his best friend.

Isabelle counted on her fingers, she held one finger, then two, and then the final one...three.

Clary took a deep breath, before she screamed as loud as she could, "SHUT UP!" Her and Isabelle both screamed, Isabelle overpowering her slightly, but nonetheless, it got their attention. They turned their heads to look at the girls, it was like they didn't recognize them; they all wore deadly glares, Alec was panting slightly, the room was deadly silent and Clary was sure that if either her or Isabelle moved or made another sound, they would be ripped to shreds. But that didn't stop her from opening her mouth.

"Glad that we've got your attention," she mused. "Now, have you got all that screaming out of your systems?" She tried to raise an eyebrow, but both went up. No one seemed to notice, though. The room stayed silent. "Well?" Isabelle asked, her tone expectant.

"Fine, no one's going to answer us?" Clary asked, looking around the room. When no one moved, or even a syllable left anyone's mouth, she continued. It was so silent she swore she could hear each rapidly beating heart in the room. "Then someone better explain what the hell this screaming match is about."

Alec moved to storm out, but Isabelle held up a hand, "Alexander Gideon Lightwood, move another millimetre, and I swear on Magnus' life I will skin you alive with the heel of my stiletto," she warned, her voice steady. And frankly, Clary would have been afraid if she was on the receiving end of that threat. Alec's eyes widened, and he visibly gulped. He didn't move a muscle. "Just like that," Isabelle said.

"Now, Magnus, why don't you explain, hm?" Clary gave him an expectant look, as Jace's chest moved up and down heavily, his gaze anywhere but her, more specifically her eyes. He refused to even look at her, so he stared down a cupboard. Magnus looked like the last thing he wanted to do was explain, but he groaned, and met Clary's gaze head on. "Guess what Blondie over here did," he said, motioning with his head to Jace, who glowered at the sparkly man across the room from him. Clary shrugged, "I don't know what the hell he did this time," she said void of emotion. "Enlighten me."

"He told Jonathan, and Sebastian to stay away from you," Magnus said, giving Jace a superior look. Clary gaped at Magnus, and then turned her attention to Jace, who refused to meet her gaze. "You don't want to know the rest," Alec added, his voice low.

"Tell me," Clary pushed. Magnus looked hesitant, but unless you knew Magnus like the back of your hand, you wouldn't have noticed it under his thick layer of anger. "I said, _tell me_ ," Clary said, her own anger growing-not only towards Jace, either. She had a feeling that they were all keeping something from her- _things_ -and Isabelle, too. The anger in the room seemed to evaporate. Just like that. There was a fog of uneasiness that had swept over the room, mixed with the leftover anger that Clary could tell was still boiling under the skin of each boy in the room.

"No one's going to tell me?" Clary raised her eyebrows expectantly. There was dead silence, so quiet you could tell everyone was holding their breaths, leaving Clary to hear her own heart thumping wildly in her chest. "Okay, you know what? I'm so over this whole thing." Clary turned on her heel, willing herself to remember where Isabelle had left her car keys-the room, of course. She dashed up the stairs, grabbing her phone, a jacket, and some money that was laying on the bed, just visible under the mess of blankets. Her hands grasped the car keys, having pulled them off of Isabelle's small table beside her own bed. Clary clutched them tightly in her palm, the metal of the keys digging into her palm. She sensed some bleeding in the near future, if she didn't loosen her death grip. But still, she held them tightly.

Clary slammed the bedroom door on her way out, and ran down the stairs as fast as her small form could carry her. Luckily, she didn't need to go through the kitchen to get to the front door. The front door wait, just in front of the steps. Her escape. The way to put an end to this terrible nightmare.

Clary jumped down the last few steps, nearly twisting her ankle, she let out an annoyed grunt, and grasped for the metal doorknob. Twisting it, and pulling. She glanced at the kitchen, where everyone still stood, looking a little dumbstruck. Clary wanted to laugh-and she did, to herself. The sound in her head was bitter and not her at all, but that's how she felt. The door was wide open in front of her, and a soft summer breeze blew around her hair. She pushed it back down, tucking a few pieces behind her ear. She would probably be branded as reckless by her friends, but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. Time was moving in slow motion, as she tried to run down the stairs, she found that she couldn't move fast enough for her liking.

Time was still slow, to her, as she walked to Isabelle's BMW, and clicked the unlock button on the remote hanging from the keychain. There was a _click_ noise, and Clary pulled on the handle of the door. It swung open faster than she thought, time seemingly having sped up, the door hit her hip, and she hissed in the slight pain. That would definitely leave a bruise.

Clary put one leg in the car, swinging the rest of her body in after it. She had driven Isabelle's car enough to know just how to work it. Otherwise, she would be pretty screwed right now. I _must seem like a five-year-old, throwing a tantrum_. But this was no tantrum; she was fed up with the secrets-what else were they all keeping from her? Clary promptly shut the door, and pushed the key into the ignition, turning it. The car purred to life, finally allowing Clary some relief, for whatever reason.

She pressed down on the brake, to shift gears, and pulled on the gear shift, bringing the car out of park, and into drive-good thing Isabelle had backed in. Taking her foot off the brake, she put it on the gas. At this point, she had looked down at herself, and realized she was wearing but a bikini top, shorts, and sandals. A little bit of a horrible choice of clothing, but then again, she'd never planned on driving back to New York. Clary pressed on the gas, and the car lurched forward smoothly, spinning up sand with its tires. _Am I really going to do this?_ She asked herself. _What answers will my mom give me, when my own best friends won't even answer anything?_ _Do I really even want to talk to her? No. No. No_. Her head spun, as her inner voice repeated the same word over and over again; _no_.

* * *

The sky had fallen dark, and stars pierced the sky. Bright, and white and pure. _So beautiful_ , Clary thought, as she pumped gas into Isabelle's car. Thankfully, there had been about fifty dollars in that wad of money she picked up before she left, and her jacket had had even more money in it, which she couldn't even begin to express how grateful to herself she was for working like crazy at that diner on Sixth Avenue.

Her phone had been buzzing like crazy against the passenger seat the whole ride, and Clary had to swallow back guilt every time she pretended she didn't hear her phone ringing. Although, Clary couldn't figure out why they would still want to be friends with her-or worry about her, for that matter-considering her life was like a never-ending soap opera.

She looked through the tinted window of the driver's side, and could see a faint light coming from her phone screen-more texts, more missed calls. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. But going back wasn't an option now; she'd seem like she was simply throwing a tantrum. That was so far from the truth, it was laughable.

Clary pulled the pump out of the car, and set it back on the stand, where it had been, before she went into the gas station to pay.

* * *

 _"Jace! Put me down!"_ _Clary yelled at him, pounding on his back. She could easily jump off of him if she wanted-all it would take was her kicking him where the sun didn't-nor would it ever-shine. But, she really wasn't prepared to do that to him, considering it would involve her getting some major payback later. She held tightly to him, squeezing his torso with her legs. He was so tall, and Clary hated to admit, but she loved the view from up high-she could definitely get used to it._

 _He laughed, his body shaking under Clary, and she involuntarily grasped tighter to him. "Relax, Clary," he said. "I wouldn't_ dream _of dropping you," his signature smirk found its place on his gorgeous features. Clary scoffed, and rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, let me down," she said. He stayed quiet for a moment, seemingly contemplating it. "Hm," he said, turning his head to look at her. "I don't think so."_

 _"Remind me why you're my friend again?" Clary asked, as Jace walked them out into the woods behind his house-where they'd always played when they were kids. "Best friend-excuse you," Jace said. "And it's because I am amazing in every possible way, and hotter than the sun." Clary laughed loudly at this, and it took a few minutes before she'd recovered. "Are you sure you didn't mean that your ego is a big as the sun?" Clary asked._

 _Jace feigned hurt. "You wound me, Fairchild," he said, and let his grip on her legs go. Her upper arm strength wasn't all that great, so after a few moments, she lost her grip on him completely, falling on her butt. Jace chuckled, a low sound in his throat. Clary glared up a him. "What happened to_ not _dropping me, hm?" He shrugged. " I changed my mind."_

Clary jolted awake, her breathing heavy, and her heart beating crazily in her chest. _What the hell?_ She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, before she remembered that she'd pulled over in a vacant parking lot, when her eyes started to droop shut; Isabelle would not have been happy if Clary crashed her car. Not that Clary thought she'd be happy about her taking her car all the way back to New York...without her.

Her mind wandered to the dream, but now it seemed more like a memory than a dream. Could it be one of the ones she'd lost after the crash? No way she had been friends-best friends-with Jace Herondale of all people. It didn't seem real, but sure enough, the image was still there, as vivid as it had been while she slept. Usually her dreams faded within a few minutes of being awake, but this one stayed firmly in place, replaying on loop in her head.

Clary yawned, and felt her eyes begin to shut again. She let them; that had been the first time she hadn't had a restless sleep. Why not catch up on some sleep?

Blackness took her over, and she was held tightly in the clutches of sleep.

 _Clary sat on a couch, someone's body pressed very close to hers. The couch was white, and plush, and just overall comfortable-like the kind you would use as your bed, if you could. The room was familiar, she knew it like the back of her hand, having been here so much. On the television screen,_ Friday the 13th _was playing. Not one of her preferred horror movies, but it wasn't bad. The only reason she'd agreed to watch it at all, was because Jace liked it, and he was sick of watching all of the other ones on repeat. So, begrudgingly, Clary had agreed to his choice. If he wasn't her best friend, she'd probably have murdered him a long time ago._

 _At the moment, someone was being murdered, and Clary was actually quite bored. Jace was watching the screen intensely. Clary squished herself more into his side, finding that her eyelids were falling shut every couple of minutes...seconds, now. Jace's body was warm, and comforting. She rested her head on his chest, as sleep clawed at her. Clary breathed in his scent, pine needles, laundry soap and sunshine-if sunshine had a smell, she was sure that it would be what Jace smelled like._

 _Clary yawned, and allowed her eyes to shut. She was just falling asleep, when she heard an amused laugh, it was all too familiar. "Are you comfortable there?" Jace asked. Clary slapped him, her hand making hard contact with his chest, the sound oddly satisfying. "Shut up..." Clary trailed off. "I'm tired."_

 _She felt Jace relax beneath her, and lay back against the couch. She heard Jace say something, but his voice was too low and quiet for her to hear, and the sleepiness didn't help much, either. "What...?" She mumbled into his chest, but got no reply._

Clary jolted awake, for the second time that night. She was surprised to have had another...dream? Or maybe it was another memory coming back to her. Or maybe, she just imagined the whole thing, something her mind made it up to toy with her.

It was still dark out, but she could just see the sun coming up through the thick clouds that had gathered. Clary yawned, and tried her best to stretch out in the small space. Her phone buzzed loudly, startling her so much she jumped in her seat, nearly hitting her head on the roof of the car. She cursed under her breath, and hesitantly picked up her phone, turning it over so she could see the screen. On the screen, it showed a picture of her and Isabelle, both covered in paint from a party they'd went to-paint Twister had been the main attraction. They were both smiling widely, and Clary found herself near crying. She couldn't answer, Isabelle would want answers. Ones that she didn't have, and wasn't prepared to share, even if she did.

The declined the call, sending Isabelle to voicemail. The picture disappeared from the screen, showing Clary's lock screen, which had countless notifications; sixty-nine missed calls from Isabelle, forty-three from Alec, seventy-two from Magnus, twenty from Jace. When she scrolled down further, there was nothing but voicemail notifications, and text messages from Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus. None from Jace, though.

Hesitantly, Clary replayed the voice mails, the first one from Isabelle, sounding frantic and stressed, and on the verge of tears.

"Clary," she said. "Please, please, answer your phone. Tell me you're okay!" And the call ended.

The next one was from Magnus.

"Biscuit, come on, answer your phone...come back to the house. Tell _someone_ where you're going," and that was the end of the voicemail. The next few were from Isabelle and Magnus, a few from Alec, and then to her utter surprise, Jace.

"Clary, I know I've been an ass," he said, sounding distraught, "Just please, come back. Isabelle and Magnus are freaking out, and Alec's trying to calm them down, while he's freaking out just-" the end of the voicemail cut him off. _Just what?_ Clary wondered. She fought the urge to call each of them back, tell them she was fine, and that she would come back. Or just that she was sorry, and that she was going home.

* * *

 _"Clary!" Jace shouted from somewhere in the woods. She knew it was sort of childish, but she was hiding in the woods, from Jace-she may or may not have shoved him into his pool, while he was fully dressed, and then run away into the woods while he was still under the water._

 _Clary bit her lip to keep from giggling. This was all_ way _too amusing to her. She could hear the crunching of leaves under his soggy shoes, and the awful squishing noise his shoe made whenever he stepped. Did she forget to mention it was November? Oops._

 _Clary was much quieter than him-when she wasn't giggling like a mad man-when it came to running, which would make her escape easy. She took off like a shot, careful to avoid big patches of leafs. Clary soon found herself right back in Jace's manicured-to-perfection backyard. Water surrounding his pool, and one of his maids-Clary's personal favourite, Agnes, a sweet old woman, who could cook like nobody's business. She shook her head disapprovingly at Clary, but the small, amused smile she wore, and the look in her eyes told Clary she found this just as funny as she herself did. "Agnes!" Clary squeaked. "Hide me!"_

 _Agnes laughed, and motioned for Clary to follow her. She did so without hesitation. Agnes led her inside the house, "Take off your shoes, and carry them with you," Agnes instructed. Clary peeled off her sneakers, which no doubt would track in at least_ some _mud. The two stopped in front of the basement door. "He never goes down here," Agnes informed her. Clary nodded, "Thanks, Agnes," she said before pushing open the door, and darting down the stairs, holding her shoes tightly._

 _She fit herself in between the deep freezer, and the cement wall, holding her shoe sin front of her, as her body was squished. Though she was small, the space in between the freezer and the wall was even smaller. She sat there for who knew how long, waiting for Jace to return, it seemed he hadn't yet, and wouldn't for a while. Probably searching the woods for her, she thought. But, no. Jace jumped out from the other side of the wall, wearing an_ Anonymous _mask-where ever he'd found that-and he screamed at her. She jumped, well, tried to, but it proved much more difficult sitting in that small space. The lights flicked on, and Jace took off the mask, and laughed. Hard. Although Clary didn't scream-she was pretty un-scarable, he'd gotten the reaction he wanted._

 _Finally, after he had his laugh, he offered a hand to Clary, helping her get out of the small space she was wedged into. She scowled at him, although, really she couldn't; she had pushed him into his pool, after all. "You pushed me in my pool," he defended himself. Clary huffed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she grumbled._

The dream-or was it a memory?-faded out, and a new one faded in.

 _It was her birthday, her sixteenth birthday, to be exact. And no, she wasn't throwing some extravagant Sweet Sixteen party, she was simply hanging out with her friends, watching some of her favourite movies, and eating cake. It was perfect. Isabelle sat behind her, braiding her hair, she was always so good at those types of things. There was a bunch of blankets stacked on the floor, with pillows all over them, creating a spot for them to sit, and hang out and watch television. Jace and Alec sat in front of the girls, conversing, while watching whatever show was on._

 _"Oh!" Jace said, standing up quickly, "I almost forgot," he said. He retrieved a box from the coffee table, and sat back down, facing Clary. His golden hair fell in his eyes slightly, and his golden eyes glowed beautifully. He was smiling, and Clary could see his chipped incisor. It might be an imperfection, but Clary found it kind of cute._

 _He held the box out to Clary, "Open it," he said. Clary gave him a look, and then the box, before she took it. Isabelle continued to braid her hair, but Clary could feel her leaning over her shoulder slightly to watch, see what was in the box._

 _Clary pulled off the newspaper wrapping, and the small red bow. Inside, was a crushed velvet box, the colour of blood. Clary looked up at Jace, and hen back down to the box. "I swear, Herondale, if you spent over a hundred dollars on this, I'll smack you." She warned. "Better get it over with now, then," Jace said, and leaned forward, waiting on Clary to slap him. "Jace!" Clary gasped. "I told you I didn't want anything."_

 _He shrugged. "Too late for that."_

 _Clary rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide how happy she was. She often wondered what she would do without him, but couldn't think about it long, without feeling the backs of her eyes prickle with threatening tears._

 _Clary lifted the top of the box open, and her mouth opened slightly in shock. "Jace," she said. "It's beautiful," he smiled at her. It was a silver anklet, with small silver balls stuck in place every few centimetres. A loopy C with small diamonds hung from it. "Come here," Jace said. "I'll put it on." Clary put out her right foot to him, and he gently took the anklet from the box, and undid the clasp, redoing it around her ankle. "You know," he said, matter-of-factly. "The lady at the store didn't believe me when I told her how small your ankle was," Clary laughed, and pulled her foot back, admiring the anklet a few moments, before she threw herself on Jace, hugging him tightly. Isabelle huffed at her. "I wasn't done yet," she said, but Clary could hear the smile in her voice. Jace wrapped his arms around Clary's small form, and held her tightly._

 _"Thank you so much," she said softly, by Jace's ear. "Your so welcome," Jace said, and let her go. "Happy Birthday, Clary," he smiled brightly._

Clary took in a deep breath, her eyes snapping open. It was early morning sometime, the sun was further in the sky than it had been, and there were no bright headlights shining in her rear-view mirror. Clary yawned, and felt everything from her dreams flooding back to her-there had been so many dreams, but two major ones, both including Jace. She couldn't believe it, but she knew it now. She could remember bits and pieces, but it was enough-more than enough. For now, anyways.

 _Jace is my best friend_ , she thought, with utter clarity. It was as if someone had sucked out all the fogginess that had surrounded certain memories, and made one thing absolutely clear; _I miss my best friend_.

* * *

She was exhausted, having driven for at least four hours straight. Most likely more, much more. Clary had went above and beyond the speed limit to get back to the house, and it was already getting dark. She let her head rest against the steering wheel a moment, before she pulled the keys out of the ignition, and got out of the car, locking it.

Clary had parked away from the house, so it was a surprise that she was back-although she didn't really know how _happy_ they'd all be to see her. The weather was warm, and the same soft breeze of air blew her hair around behind her head. She walked back to the house, her energy slipping away like sand in an hour glass.

The front door was unlocked, and Clary went right in, just as she always had. The kitchen was in view, and she could see the tired, glum faces of Alec, Magnus, Isabelle, and to her surprise, Jace. Come to think of it, he had surprised her a lot in the last twenty-four hours.

Magnus' head was leaning heavily over a coffee mug, and when he ran a hand through his already messy, glittery hair, glitter rained down in a fine spray onto the counter, and into his mug. Clary certainly didn't want to be the person drinking _that_ coffee. Isabelle and Alec had their heads bent in conversation, as they sat beside each other on the barstools, Alec rubbing Isabelle's back. Jace had sat himself in one of the leather arm chairs, looking tired, just as the rest of them.

"You all look like racoons," Clary commented, and each and everyone of their heads snapped up, eyes locking instantly on Clary, and her disbelieved self. Believe it or not, sleeping in a car, and driving for long periods of time did nothing for the already-there bags under your eyes, your hair, and or your patience. Isabelle jumped off the barstool, and wrapped Clary in a tight hug. "I swear on my high-heel collection, Clarissa, if you ever do that again I'll-" Magnus cut her off.

"Oh, shut it, Iz," he said. "We all knew she'd be fine, and here you were stressing out. We told you she'd come back," Magnus said, a little overly-dramatic for Clary, though. "Now, though, the question remains; why _did_ you come back?"

Clary shrugged, all eyes on her. "Various reasons-one being all the missed calls and texts," she ran her hand along the wall. "Uh-huh, what else?" Magnus prodded, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "I didn't think it would happen," Clary said, being vague on purpose, just to keep the suspense building. She knew she really shouldn't do that to her friends who had probably been up all night worried about her, but it was just too good an opportunity not to. "But it did. Bits and pieces, it started coming back to me last night."

Alec looked around the room, confused, his eyes meeting Jace's, who then shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he had no idea what Clary was talking about. Isabelle and Magnus traded glances, eyeing Clary cautiously, as if they thought she'd completely lost it.

She decided then and there, to stop, to just not say anything to anyone but Jace-from what she remembered, he was good at keeping secrets, staying quiet. "I remember the crash," Clary said, tears that she had been holding in since who knew how long, came out like a waterfall of heartbreak and hurt. Isabelle pulled her back in again, and Clary buried her face in Isabelle's inky hair, and soft shirt.

* * *

After everything had settled, and Clary had handed over Isabelle's car keys, they had all went to bed, after eating a very late dinner of take-out from a restaurant further in the small town. It turned out the "small town" was much bigger than they'd thought, they were just in the more rural area of it, a little distance away from the bigger portion of the city. Isabelle had been excited to go shopping, while Magnus' words had grouped together when he'd gotten so excited about buying more glitter, that all it sounded like was a bunch of gibberish. But, that was Magnus for you. And then, of course, Alec and Clary had groaned at the idea of shopping.

Now, though, it was late, and pitch black outside. Not a star, nor the moon pierced the vale of darkness that covered them. Clary tried to be as quiet as possible, as she crept down the stairs at nearly two in the morning. She may be tired, but she was a little scared to go back to sleep, for fear of what she might remember next. Clary knew she could only remember nice, happy things for so long, before the awful memories came back-and she didn't know if she would be able to handle remembering those ones.

There was a faint noise coming from the living room, and Clary had no doubt in her mind that it was Jace watching television at this late at night. She reached the bottom of the stairs, and turned into the living room, to find Jace; his feet propped up on the wooden coffee table, and his arms stretched out across the back of the couch, on either side of him. He looked tired, like he wanted to sleep, but wouldn't let himself.

"Jace," she squeaked, against her will. "Can we talk?"

Jace turned his head, he looked surprised to see her. He shrugged, and Clary took this as a yes, and sat herself beside him on the couch, her position the one she'd have to sit in during school; criss cross apple sauce. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" She found herself asking. Jace looked at her, his brows creasing together in the center of his forehead. "I won't tell you if you're going to tell anyone else," Clary warned. This, got his attention fully, and he removed his legs from the coffee table, and set his hands in his lap. "Depend what it is," he said. "I guess I'll just have to take a chance then," Clary said, more to herself than to Jace.

He looked at her expectantly, and Clary moved her leg, to reveal the silver anklet she always wore. "Do you remember this?" She asked. Recognition flashed in his eyes, but then was gone, like a ghost. He shook his head, _no_. "Liar," Clary blurted. Jace raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, "You bought me this," she said. Jace looked unconvinced. "On my sixteenth birthday, when I told you not to buy me anything. I haven't taken it off since, and could never remember why, only that I couldn't-wouldn't."

Jace's expression was unreadable, so Clary went on, "I pushed you into your pool, in mid-November, and then you tried to scare me by jumping out from behind a wall in your basement, while wearing an _Anonymous_ mask. Remember that?" Clary raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for a response.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Jace said, looking bored. _Fine,_ Clary thought, _let's see if you remember this..._

"I'm sure it doesn't," Clary dead panned, "so, are you really going to tell me you don't remember me the night when we watched _Friday The 13th,_ and I fell asleep practically on top of you?"

Jace paled at this, and Clary raised her arms in triumph. "Ha!" She quietly shouted-if that was possible. "I knew you remembered."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jace said, but his voice was so low Clary had to strain to hear it. "Fine," Clary said, slapping her hands against her thighs in exasperation. "Tell me, who else would know that," Jace looked over at her, his expression un-decipherable, his aureate eyes burning, as if there were a raging fire on the inside of him. A war going on in his head, it seemed. He stayed silent, save for his deep breaths every few seconds. It was obvious, by the look on his face that he wasn't going to say anything for a long time-if he was going to speak at all. Which Clary doubted very much.

"Okay, so we're going to pretend you don't remember? Sounds good," Clary said, and stood up. She suddenly wasn't in the mood for conversation anymore, not with Jace, anyways. "Hope you enjoy being all alone," she spat bitterly, before she left the living room, and mounted the wooden steps, feeling the smooth wood grain under her bare feet. For some reason, though, here was a nagging at the back of her head that told her he wouldn't act like this for long, that something would change. All Clary could do was hope-hope that she remembered the rest of whatever it was she was missing.

* * *

 **Whew! That took quite a few hours to write.**

 **First of all, guys, I'm so sorry about the time gap between updates-there really is no excuse for me taking this long to update, especially with the free time I had on the weekends. But I just couldn't get the right words-and looks like I finally did!**

 **I really hope you all liked this chapter, because another one should be coming within the next few days.**

 **I'm really going to try and keep the updates coming at a normal rate-not a few within a couple days, and then the next one a week or two later. Promise.**


	17. A Little Bump On The Head-Part One

No memories came back to Clary that night. None at all, and she was left to wonder why-she had gotten a good amount of memories the night before. There was another question, though-why was she only now remembering fragments, why not _before_ this trip? What was oh-so-special about this trip?

Isabelle was still sleeping-snoring loudly, that is-so Clary rolled over, scooting closer to the left side of her bed. And before she could make even a squeak, she was falling to the floor, her head connecting with the corner of the table that sat beside her bed, the sharp, wooden corner scraping down the back of her head, as she fell to the floor. Her head then proceeded to connect with the hard wood, causing Clary to wince in pain. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes, like being temporarily blinded by the bright flash of a camera. Only, this wasn't a camera flash, considering her vision just _kept_ turning black, darker and darker, until there was nothing left to see, and her eyes fell shut.

* * *

Like hazy-yet somehow unbelievably clear, dreams, memories, images, small clips of things here and there, were coming back. Everything flooding Clary's brain, overwhelming her.

 _Jace walked, out to the woods behind his house, Clary could see him, his head turning back and forth, looking for her. She was sitting on a thick branch of a tall-enough-tree. The bark was digging into her skin, even through the denim of her jeans. It was definitely harder than she thought it would have been to climb a tree in skinny jeans. So much harder._

 _"Clary!" Jace called into the abyss of trees. She snickered into her hand, as he walked into the woods. She could see the golden hair, through the changing leafs on the trees, see him drifting further away from the tree she sat in. This was going to be entertaining. Clary sat back, watching, waiting. She had made sure to choose a tree with enough coverage so that Jace wouldn't see her. It was easier to camouflage her hair in the fall, what with all the red and orange leafs on the trees._

 _It was a good twenty minutes, before Clary caught a glimpse of golden hair wandering through the forest. She could hear twigs snapping, and leafs crunching under his shoes, as he called out, "Clary!"_

 _She was going to scare him._

 _She wasn't the most graceful person ever, so she had had to practice the trick she was going to do, in order to scare him. There was still the chance that she would just fall, and break every bone in her body, but she was more than willing to take that chance-if it meant getting the reaction she wanted out of Jace._

 _Finally, he was just a little ways away from the branch she'd situated herself in. Clary got into position, so that she would be able to hang upside down from the branch. She gripped the bark as hard as she could, with her legs and hands, before she let go of the branch with her hands, and fell backwards. Jace turned around, and jumped back, letting out a noise of surprise. "Jesus, Clary," he said, holding a hand to his chest, looking her up and down. She probably looked ridiculous, with her hair hanging down and an amused grin plastered on her face. But it was_ so _worth it._

 _"Hey," she waved, although she was upside down. "How's it going?" Jace laughed at this, and walked closer to her. "You can climb trees?" He asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her. "No," Clary deadpanned. "I used a ladder-it's right on the other side of the tree," she pointed to the tree. "Go check."_

 _"I still don't believe you," Jace said, stepping back from her once again. "Alright," Clary said, and prepared to do the trick she'd been practicing. She grabbed the branch with her hands, momentarily disappearing from view. She removed her legs from the branch, and using momentum, swung down, until she was holding onto the branch as if she were about to do pull-ups. Clary wanted to close her eyes for the drop, just in case she did happen to break some bones, but she kept them open._

 _Clary dropped to the ground, crouching as she did so, so the impact wouldn't come on so strong, but it didn't do much. At all. Her feet stung, and pain shot up through her back. Luckily for her, though, it was gone in a few seconds. Jace looked fairly amused by it all; a smirk rested on his features, his arms crossed over his chest. His golden hair shining in the sun-that was setting, at the moment. The wind had turned cold, almost bitter, blowing the leafs on branches._

 _"Still don't believe me?" Clary asked, straightening her posture._

 _"Oh, I believe you," Jace said. "I just-no, I don't believe you. Where's that ladder?" Clary rolled her eyes and walked over to him. "I scared you," she mused._  
 _"You did not," Jace protested. "Just think about how you would feel if you were walking around the woods looking for me, and I swung down from a tree."_  
 _"Jace, I'm about five-foot-three, and you're scared of me?"_

 _"Have you met you?" He joked._

The memories came in and out, like a slideshow. It was like watching a movie of someone's life, only, it was _her_ life, parts of it she didn't remember. There were memories of her and Jace, doing almost any activity normal teenagers did with their friends, things that seemed impossible to forget-especially when it was your _best friend_ but, there Clary had been; clueless, oblivious, and not a person willing to tell her what she was missing out on.

 _"Isabelle!" Clary hissed, "Eyes on the road, damn it. You almost ran into that lamp post." It was a snowy night-no, scratch that. It was blizzard weather, and there Clary and Isabelle were, sitting in Isabelle's car, narrowly avoiding crashing into things as they drove on. They were supposed to meet Jace, at his house-which was all the way across New York-for movie night, but Clary wasn't so sure it was a good idea anymore. "Sorry," Isabelle said, her tone apologetic, her eyes on the road._  
 _It was silent, for a moment, and then Isabelle briefly turned her head to look at Clary, and bit her lip, "You kissed him," she said. Clary raised her eyebrows, paling quite visibly, an unnaturally white colour. "W-what?" Clary choked out, trying to regain her composure. "Jace-you kissed him. Or did Alec just flat out lie to me?" Isabelle's eyes flickered to Clary again, while Clary's nails left crescent indents in her palms, as Isabelle's car started swerving off the road. "Iz!" Clary squeaked. Isabelle cursed loudly, and jerked the wheel, sending her car back into the lane. Though not many people were crazy enough to drive in blizzard weather, there still was a lot of cars, mostly taxi's, driving around. Some honked their horns at Isabelle, but really, they were doing it too._

 _"Isabelle, if we survive this drive, I'll tell you anything you want to know. But until that happens, please just try to focus, please?" Clary pleaded. Isabelle nodded curtly, her eyes sharpening, her gaze concentrated on the road ahead of her. It was near impossible, though; the blizzard had started, it seemed, because heavy snow blew around in the strong wind, covering the windshield, large snowflakes raining down at a rapid pace. The road was coated in a thick, fresh layer of ice-water that had frozen, from the snow melting only a few days ago. Clary shivered just looking at it._

 _She didn't think they'd make it, not without crashing. A half hour later-much longer than it would have taken, without the blizzard-Isabelle let out a heavy breath, pulling her BMW onto the side of the road in front of a large house, coated in snow-just like everything else. Lights shone through the windows, giving off a warm, cozy glow._

 _"He probably thinks we died on the way, we took so long," Isabelle joked, but a hint of seriousness crept into her voice._

 _"Yeah," Clary said, her hand gripping the latch that would open her door, expose her to the freezing cold winter air._

 _Isabelle shut off the car, the warm air that had been heating the car, ceased. Isabelle pulled the keys out of the ignition._

 _Without a word spoken, both girls opened their doors, and got out. The cold air bit viciously at Clary's exposed skin; maybe not wearing snow pants was a bad idea..._  
 _And to think, Christmas was still three weeks away._

 _"Brr," Isabelle laughed, rubbing her hands up and down the arms of her coat, manifestly trying-and failing-to regain the warmth that had escaped her body._

 _It was a long walk up the driveway, with Clary and Isabelle both slipping on the ice every so often. When they finally reached the few stairs up onto the covered porch, the silence was broken, "I think that might've been harder than driving here," Isabelle muttered. Her cheeks were red from the cold, and Clary could only assume hers looked the same, if not worse._

 _Clary stepped forward, and knocked on the steel, off-white door. Three loud knocks. The door opened, and a gust of warm air swept over Clary. She relished in the feeling of warmth, before the frosty weather swept it away. "What-I told you guys not to come-the weathers too bad. I texted you, Clary," Jace's voice rang through her head, a soft, sweet, almost melodic sound._

 _"Sorry, your heiness," Clary responded, the words coming out almost without her permission. "I have no service," Clary dug in her coat pocket, and pulled out her worn cell, shoving it in his face. He pushed her hand back gently, and sighed. "Idiots," he muttered, turning back into the house, walking away. "Don't know why you'd drive all the way here-in his weather," Clary found it funny, the way he was talking to himself._

 _Clary stumbled over the door way, looking back up to see Isabelle tugging her wrist. "What?" She ra_ _ised her eyebrows. "You_ want _to stand out there all night?" Clary shook her head, and kicked off her snow-caked boots by the door, Isabelle following suit._

 _Jace had long disappeared down the polished, warmly lit hallway, without so much as a word. Typical. No matter, though; Clary and Isabelle had been there enough times to know the house like it was their own. It practically was, sometimes. It was the same way Jace and Isabelle and Simon knew Clary's house; the same way they all knew Isabelle and Alec's house._

 _Agnes, a maid of sorts, walked down the hallway, in her hands she held a pile of blankets. They smelled as if they'd just come out of the dryer. "Hi, Agnes," Clary smiled softly. Agnes returned the smile, "Hello, dears," she stopped mid stride, the small heel of her black shoes clacking against the polished hardwood. "It must be very cold out there. Not very smart of you two to drive all the way out here-you'll be snowed in by morning."_

 _"Blondie doesn't seem to think so, either," Isabelle replied, her gaze shifting down the hall, where it was darker, where there were no lights. Agnes laughed, "He's not been in a very good mood," she remarked. "Can't figure out why-but the boy's been pacing these halls for hours, it seems, waiting for you ladies to get back to him."_  
 _Clary almost felt bad, but then again, there hadn't been anything they_ were _able to do, other than not crash. "I never got his text," Clary put it simply. "No service," she tapped her pocket, where the snow was starting to melt, turning to beads of water. Agnes nodded, "I do hope you girls don't plan on leaving tonight. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to the two of you," Agnes had always been so sweet, so kind. She didn't have a mean bone in her body, not that Clary had ever seen or heard of._

 _"If it will make you happy, Agnes, I don't see why not," Isabelle smiled._

 _"It's all settled then? You'll stay here until it's not a blizzard out there, no ifs ands or buts about it," Agnes began walking down the hall again, before turning her head back to the two girls. "Would you two like a room, or just the usual?" The usual was what almost always happened; they'd fall asleep on a mound of blankets and pillows, watching horror movies-or just really awful television shows that were on at two in the morning. "The usual," Isabelle said, it wasn't even debatable, because they'd both be too tired to move._

 _Agnes was off again, Clary and Isabelle walking down the hall, to the last room on the right, that lead to a large room, where they always hung out together. And sure enough, Jace was sitting there, arm draped over the back of the couch, the dull glow of false illumination from the television lighting his golden hair to a pale blonde. "You're stuck with us," Clary announced. Jace looked over at her, his expression blank and bored, almost wanting an explanation. "Agnes' disicison, not ours. Trust us, pretty boy," Isabelle added, patting his shoulder as she walked by the couch, tossing her coat over the back of it. Water splashed up, sprawling Jace in the face. "Sorry," Isabelle bit out sarcastically._

 _Clary couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Jace's gaze flickered to her, something she couldn't quite place burned in his aureate eyes. It sent shivers down her body, and back up again. Clary only hoped that neither Isabelle or Jace had caught it; it was one thing for him to look at her, another for it to send shivers through Clary. Things were changing, morphing into unknown things, right before her eyes. She couldn't do anything to change it, nothing to stop it. It was either this, or ruin their friendship forever. What was worse? She kind of liked the idea of the former._

 _"My God," Isabelle gagged. "You both like each other, just date! Get it over with!" She exclaimed, her arms out wide, and then falling to her thighs, a loud slap resounding through the room as her hands made contact. She looked like she wanted to say more, but held her tongue._

 _"Yeah, sure, Iz, we'll get right on that," Clary rolled her eyes, peeling off her wet coat, draping it over top of Isabelle's. She subconsciously tugged on the bottom hem of her shirt, her eyes glued to her multi-coloured socks. "Nice socks," Jace teased. Clary glared up at him. "What is your deal?" She demanded._

 _A simple shrug was all she got in reply, his head turning back to face the television. Isabelle was being oddly silent, standing as if she'd been frozen in time, looking like she'd been mid-stride as she'd been frozen._

 _And that, was how Clary found herself angrily yanking up her coat from where it lay on the couch, grasping around in Isabelle's coat pocket for the car keys, and leaving the Herondale Mansion. If you had asked her why she was angry, she would have groaned, unable to pin-point the exact reason. Perhaps it was multiple reasons, perhaps it was just that Jace being his typical self had finally gotten on Clary's nerves. Whatever it was, though, she didn't care. The car door swung open, she climbed inside, jamming the keys into the ignition. The car came alive, cold air blowing out of the vents, where warm air was supposed to. Clary slammed the door shut,hastily pulled on her seat belt, and turned on the windshield wipers, big chunks of sticky snow falling to the ground, sliding down the hood of the car._  
 _Clary shifted the car into drive, and stepped on the gas pedal, practically flooring it. The car skidded onto the road, and all Clary could think about was getting home, where no one would know-or ask-about why she was home early, they'd just be happy she'd gotten home alright. She could sit, draw with Jonathan, something she always loved doing._

 _The drive home was slippery, and scary. Clary's heart stopped nearly a hundred times, but she got home, just as the storm started to pick up. Being back in New York, not just on the outskirts, she had service, and her phone was ringing off the hook. Damn Jace and his amazing cell service. Annoyed, after the twentieth call, she picked up, warm air blowing through the vents, warming her forever-cold skin._

 _"What?" She demanded, right off the bat._

 _"Oh, thank God," Jace sighed into the phone._

 _"Is that all you wanted? I appreciate it, Jace,_ _I do, but I really don't want to talk to you," Clary pulled her phone away from her ear, and clicked END CALL._

 _Jonathan hadn't asked questions, just nodded, and drawn with her. Their mom or dad weren't home, which Clary was a little glad for; she didn't have to explain, and from what Jonathan told her, they wouldn't be home for a few days with this awful blizzard._

 _"Do you want to talk about it?" Jonathan looked up from his sketch pad, pencil in hand. Clary shook her head, some hair falling out of the bun she'd made with a pencil. "Not really, no," Clary replied, and looked back at her drawing._

 _Later that night, Clary found herself watching television, not really paying attention to what was going on in front of her. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, she fished it out, to see Isabelle's face on the screen. She swiped the screen to answer it, "Iz? You do know what time it is, right?" Isabelle scoffed into the phone. "Please, I get a pass-you stole my car."_

 _"I did not steal it!" Clary protested, "I borrowed it..." she trailed off, not wanting to explain to Isabelle the feelings even she didn't understand. "Anyways," Isabelle began. "Jace is asleep, and we're snowed in, so I'm stuck here for however long."_

 _"Uh-huh," Clary said, readjusting her position, so that she was laying on her side, spread out across the couch. "So, why did you call?"_

 _"I wanted-need to tell you something," She sounded as if she were trying to keep quiet. "Hang on-one sec," there was rustling, and then the soft closing of a door. "There." Isabelle sighed._

 _"It's about Jace-he-" Isabelle cut off. "He likes you, I can tell. And you like him, don't deny it." Clary had no plan to deny it. "But, you know this, somewhere-deep down, just like I do. But neither of us wants to admit it."_

 _Clary gulped, she knew what was coming. "Stop whatever is going on, right now, Clary-you know what he'll do. Another girl will come along, and he'll break your heart. And you know what will happen? You'll be just another notch in his belt, another shattered heart in the long line that followed before. I don't want to see you like that, Clary. Jace would be long gone, leaving Simon, Magnus, Alec and me to pick up the pieces of who you were. I don't want that. Get out-now, while you can." Clary was about to say something-she wasn't sure what-when the phone went dead, Isabelle having hung up._

The following memory, was one she'd forgotten, but had already seen; the crash. It played over in her mind slowly, as Clary realized something; she never had had to "get out" of anything, the crash practically wiped her memory clean of Jace, and whatever he'd meant to her. But, now, everything was coming back-flood gates opening. Pouring emotions back into her she'd never quite felt before.

Then, everything went black. Nothing but static.

* * *

 **Hey guys! New chapter! I'm so happy-Clary's finally got her memories back. But there's going to be a whole lot of things happening next chapter! OOhh so excited!**

 **Review, review, please!**


	18. A Little Bump On The Head-Part Two

Clary's eyelids felt like bricks, as she forced them open. A distant sound, like it just couldn't reach her ears. Something peachy-coloured, and black danced in front of her eyes. She giggled, a high pitch sound in the infinite static. "Oh," she heard, the voice familiar, and normally easily placed. Right now, though, the name just wouldn't come to her. "Magnus, come here," they called. The voice was feminine sounding, so it had to be Isabelle. Yes, it must be her.

"Clary," Magnus snapped his fingers in front of her face, but all she could make out was the blurry outline of a darker-peachy colour than who she assumed to be Isabelle. Clary used all the strength she could muster, and pushed herself up. She immediately felt dizzy, like the room was tilting and swaying. "Clary," Magnus said again, his tone gentle. "Clary, stop it. You're going to make it worse."

"What-?" Clary managed, placing a heavy hand on her head. The room had stopped swaying so much, but it still tilted gently, like waves rocking a boat. "Oh, Izzy," Magnus said quietly. "Look at this," he pulled his hand away from the back of Clary's head, where it had apparently been. The blurry image dissolved to a slightly fuzzy one, revealing to Clary something that made her panic; red. Red all over his hand. Red everywhere.

Clary whirled around, the room spinning even faster than it had originally. The hard wood behind her was painted red. The table beside Clary's small bed was red. It looked like a scene from a horror movie of some sort. Only, there were no dead bodies, or serial killers after them. Clary ran her hand over the red, her fingers felt wet afterwards. She rubbed her fingers together, spreading the thick, warm substance all over her hand. She looked back at Magnus and Isabelle, her expression somewhat distraught, but over all confused. The room had stopped spinning and swaying, giving her a clear view of both Magnus and Isabelle, who didn't look themselves; Isabelle's hair was matted, her under- eyes decorated with dark circles, while she was clad in an overly large t-shirt, and flannel shorts. Magnus, just wasn't Magnus without his glitter. His usually gelled and spiked hair, was gone, replaced with a messy, bed-head look. His eyes lacked the usually flamboyant makeup that just _made_ you want to look at him. To say they looked stressed was the biggest understatement of the year.

"Clary, how do feel?" Magnus asked, he was crouched down beside her, brushing hair back and behind her ear. Clary brought her hand back to her head-not the smartest choice, since it was covered in blood, but she didn't really care. "Dizzy, sore...awful?" It came out as more of a question, than anything else. "My God, Clary," Magnus said, his tone still gentle as ever. "Do you know how worried we were? You've been out for over two hours-and we...we didn't know what to do-there isn't a hospital for miles from here."

Isabelle sat down beside Clary, and brought Clary into a hug. "You scared me so bad," Isabelle whispered into Clary's abundance of red curls. Soon, Isabelle was sobbing quietly into Clary's hair, a hiccupping noise escaping her ever once in a while. Isabelle tentatively ran her hand over the back of Clary's head, where the cut lay. Clary winced, when her hand passed over it, bringing Isabelle's hand to an abrupt stop. Isabelle pulled her hand away, looking down at her hand, it was covered in Clary's blood, which only managed to make Isabelle sob even harder. Magnus soon pulled her away, whispering something into her ear. She nodded, wiping at her puffy under-eyes, before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom. Magnus approached Clary, he stayed silent. She felt numb, in a way, like nothing was reality, like this was all a dream. But it wasn't, and she'd had enough "dreams" to last her a lifetime. Clary needed to tell Isabelle-tell her she was okay, and that something had come out of her...accident.

Without warning, Clary stood up, bringing on a wave of dizziness. She fought through it, bringing her fist down on the bathroom door. Three hard knocks, each like lifting a pile of bricks. Isabelle whipped open the bathroom door, her eyes red along with her cheeks. "Clary, you shouldn't be walking around-and you need to get that cut cleaned up. Stitched, or something," Clary shook her head, a fresh wave of dizziness taking over her.

"I have to tell you something-ask you something, Iz," Isabelle looked at her like she was insane, but nodded, and let Clary into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. She forced Clary to sit on the toilet, with the lid closed, while she tried to clean up the cut. First, there was the peroxide, which ran down Clary's back, partially soaking her shirt and making her head sting. Then, Isabelle tentatively wiped the cut. It was only when Isabelle took out a large package of bandages from under the sink, that Clary could find the right words.

"Iz," Clary said, looking up to met Isabelle's obsidian gaze. "What were you so worried about-when you told me to stop whatever was going on with Jace?" Isabelle stopped dead, the bandage she had been in the process of opening, completely still in her hands. "You...remember that?" She asked, turning away from Clary, just enough so that Clary couldn't see her face. "I remember everything, Iz," Clary said quietly, staring down at her hands. She laced them together in various ways waiting on a response from Isabelle, even the slightest sound of a sob would be enough to calm Clary. "Izzy?" She asked after several long, excruciating seconds of silence.

Isabelle turned to face her, a guilty expression plastered over her face. "Clary," she said. "I was going to tell you-but, then you almost died, and you didn't remember and I didn't think I would have to! It would have broken your heart! It still will, now that I know you still feel the same way about him-" Isabelle rambled, tugging anxiously on her matted hair. Clary stood up, fighting off dizziness, grabbed Isabelle by her wrists, her iron grip not allowing for no movement. Not even when Isabelle jerked her wrists, trying to free them. "Tell me, Iz," Clary said, trying to keep her voice steady, even as the room shifted and swayed around her.

Isabelle swallowed, and looked down at Clary's hands gripping her own before she spoke. "Jace-he had a girlfriend, and Alec knew about it," Clary shrugged. "We all know who he is, Izzy-Jace isn't exactly boyfriend of the year."

"That's not even the worst part," Isabelle said, tears glossing over her eyes. "He had an on-going bet, with one of the guys on the football team-that he couldn't get you to fall in love with him." Clary looked up into Isabelle's eyes, her mouth slightly agape. Sure, Jace wasn't the best person ever-far from it, actually-but she'd never thought he'd sink so low as to do something like _that_.

"But he was my best friend," Clary said. "He didn't even care, did he?" She demanded, suddenly angry at someone she now knew, through and through. _It shouldn't be like this_ , she thought. _I should be celebrating with Magnus and Isabelle, maybe even telling Jace that I remember_.

"I don't know, Clary, I just couldn't figure it out," Isabelle shook her head back and forth, her matted hair forming a curtain around her face. Clary felt lightheaded, and a little nauseous. She pulled away from Isabelle completely, stumbling over her own feet, until she grabbed the door knob, holding onto it for balance. She twisted it, pulling it open, nearly falling to the ground when it did. Magnus was waiting outside the bathroom door-manifestly eavesdropping. He caught her, steadying her. But before Magnus could even get out a syllable, Clary was out of the bedroom, stumbling down the stairs, fighting off wave after wave of dizziness.

She could make out chatter from the kitchen, and knowing it must be Alec and Jace, she walked into the room, feeling groggy, and slightly like she was in a daze. Alec stood, leaning his back against the granite counter, his inky hair identical to Isabelle's falling in his eyes, covering the vibrant blue they were. Jace, on the other hand, was standing on the opposite side of the counter, his golden hair shining in the sunlight. His tawny eyes landed on her, and the sight she must be, bloody hair, bloody t-shirt, huge bandage on the back of her head, and trying to keep her balance while she walked.

"Our very own Sleeping Beauty. Who finally kissed you awake?" He asked, eyes shining.

Clary glared at him. "Shut up," she growled. "I have a gigantic cut on the back of my head that I think is bleeding through the bandage, I can't keep my balance to save my life, but yet, I have bigger problems. Any guesses, pretty boy?" She asked, one hand pressed against the wall to keep her balance. Both Jace and Alec looked taken aback, but the first to do anything was Alec. He quickly walked over to her, looking at the back of her head, and turning a surely unhealthy shade of white. "Clary," he said. "You're loosing a lot of blood, no wonder you're dizzy," he muttered the last part.

She ignored him. Not to be mean, but because she wanted-needed-to confront Jace. "Hm," She prompted him. "No guesses, then?" He remained silent. "You'd never guess what the good part about this injury is," she grinned. She must seem like a complete lunatic. "I remember everything, Jace," she cocked her head to the side, and smiled sweetly at him. "Like, remember that time I scared you in the woods, by hanging from a tree? Or how about the time Isabelle and I drove to your house in a blizzard?"

"Clary?" Alec asked, "You _actually_ remember everything?"

"Prove it," Jace said, over top of Alec, crossing his arms over his chest.

" _Prove it_?" Clary raised her eyebrows. "Fine. How about the time you kissed me-while you had a girlfriend?" At Jace's shocked expression, she continued, enjoying every second of it. " _Or maybe_ when Isabelle called me late at night, telling me to stop whatever I had going on with you? Oh, and you _definitely_ can't forget the _bet_ you had going with a teammate!" Clary exclaimed. "Ring any bells, Jace?"

"You didn't know those things before the crash," Jace's Adam's apple bobbed.

"No, you're absolutely right," Clary agreed. "The sad part is that as my best friend you did those things, and I had to find out three years later-from my friend, who is crying her eyes out in the bathroom upstairs." Clary turned away from him, wanting to back upstairs. She suddenly felt very tired, and weak; like she couldn't hold up her body for a second longer.

And then, she simply couldn't.

Her body gave out, and she fell to the ground with a loud _thud_. She could feel her shirt sticking to her back, and smell the blood that soaked it. And then arms were under her, and she was being lifted, there was shouting, and then she was moving. And finally-a lot quicker than earlier that morning-everything turned to black.

* * *

 **Jace POV**

Everything after Clary fainted was a blur, he had rushed to her, carrying her to Isabelle's car, shouting at people, ordering them around. Next thing, everyone was at the hospital, waiting impatiently, worriedly in the waiting room. None of them were allowed to go in, because, well, they weren't family. There was no way to reach Jonathan-no phone number, nothing. Only Clary had that. Jace tapped his foot in an almost angry manner on the white tiled floors. He hated hospitals, nothing ever good came from them. Not in his experience, anyways.

It felt like years later, when the doctor finally came out of a long, ever-white hallway, a clipboard in hand. He looked up, his eyes searching the room. "Clarissa Fairchild?" He called, and they all stood up, as if it had been planned. "Is she alright?" Isabelle asked immediately, her voice strained, her face streaked with tears. The doctor's face was devoid of emotion, an empty mask-giving nothing away. He'd probably had years to practice it, given the greying hair on his head. He looked down at his clipboard, tapping a pen on it, one Jace hadn't noticed before. He was prepared to hear the worst, as the doctor took in each of their faces, before speaking.

"Clarissa is stable," he said, Jace could hear him hesitating before he spoke again. Isabelle let out a breath of relief-one Jace could almost be sure had come out too soon. "But, her concussion was rather serious, and with the pain medication we're giving her...Well, it could be a few days before she wakes up. Other than that, though, she's fine. We've stitched up the wound on her head, and took a look at a few past injuries, which seem to have healed almost completely. Her file said she had been suffering from selective amnesia?" He looked around at their sullen faces for an answer.

"That's correct," Magnus said, his tone sounding cautious.

The doctor nodded, and looked back down at his clipboard. "Well, it's been almost three-four years since that happened, according to what I read. So, if her memories haven't come back by now, they will soon. Of course, this is just a guess," he stopped talking, probably realizing he had been rambling on. "Either way, you can go in, if you'd like-room two-oh-four," and he walked away from them.

As soon as his back was fully turned, Isabelle darted down the hallway, followed by Magnus, and then Alec, who ran after them, yelling at them to stop and to be quiet. Jace stayed where he was for a few moments, before following behind. The hallway was lit by bright fluorescent lights, Jace felt like he was being interrogated. There was the occasional moan of pain coming from open doors, but other than that it was deathly silent.

Then, he reached room 240. All he could see was his friends gathered around a bed. Alec was holding Isabelle tightly, as he whispered something in her ear. Jace approached them quietly, trying to get a view of Clary- _his_ Clary, _his_ best friend. Of course, she was probably really confused about how that even came to be, and it was a long story. One he wasn't prepared to get into-not right now.

He pushed in beside Alec, looking down at Clary's small form. She looked so...lifeless. So unlike the girl he knew, the one that had a temper to match her hair and an easy blush. Her hair was splayed out around her, like a circle of flames surrounding her head, only, her hair looked duller in colour. And not for the first time since the accident, he felt lonely without her by his side. He felt the regret that had been instant upon seeing her laying the same way in a hospital bed after the crash. The regret that he had waited so long to act upon his feelings for her-because, hers were more than obvious but he had been so oblivious to them. How she had never liked his girlfriends, always wanted to be around him, the time she caught her looking at him when she thought he wouldn't see, and the way she giggled at almost every joke he made-given, he was naturally funny and looked like a God.

Magnus was uncharacteristically quiet and still, while Isabelle-who never cried-drenched her brother's shirt in her tears. She hadn't even cried the time when he had tackled her in flag football, and broke her wrist. The mood in the room was anything but pleasant. Clary's hand twitched, not much, but with the way Jace was focusing his attention on her seemingly lifeless form, he noticed it. "She moved," Jace said quietly, but Isabelle seemed to hear him all the same, as if he had shouted it. "What did you say?" Isabelle asked, sounding hopeful. "She moved," Jace pointed to Clary's hand, when her head jerked to the side, in a violent manner.

"And here we thought you didn't pay attention to anything," Magnus murmured, his eyes meeting Jace's. "I can't believe you noticed her hand twitch."

"Didn't you?" Jace retorted, his voice rising with his increasing temper. That was one thing that hadn't changed since the crash-his temper. It seemed someone was always testing it, daring it flare up-which it always did. Magnus held up is hands in surrender, his gaze swiftly going back to Clary, who's mouth was moving, mumbling incoherent things. It was just like when Jace had visited her in the hospital after the crash. He had hope it meant she was waking up, but no matter how long he sat there, she hadn't woke up, and he was left feeling empty and lost without his best friend. Much like the last few years.

Isabelle buried her face in Alec's dark blue shirt again, "I can't go through this gain, Alec. I can't!" She near shouted. "I know, Izzy, I know," he said softly, his voice calming, as he rubbed circles on Isabelle's back. No matter the situation, Alec was always the rock of the group. It was strange, how calm he could be, how he could stay so level headed in such awful, horrible situations. But Jace new differently; underneath the calm front, he was just as distraught as the rest of them, barely holding on to his restraint.

"Whoa," someone said, their voice sounding tired, but they were all so focused on Isabelle they didn't notice. "Thanks for the personal space, guys," Jace whipped around, to see Clary, her eyes open, her chest rising and falling at a normal rate; she was awake. She was alright. He wanted nothing more than to hug her, hold her tight in his arms, just to make sure she was actually there.

Isabelle pulled herself free from Alec's grip, and looked Clary up and down. And then, she threw her self at Clary, wrapping her arms around Clary. Clary's eyes widened in shock, as she wrapped her arms around Isabelle as well. Next, Magnus piled on to the hug, muttering something to Clary, who smiled softly at him. Jace found himself wishing the smile was directed at _him_ , that _he_ was the one she was hugging. Reluctantly, after a few minutes of squishing Clary, both Isabelle and Magnus composed themselves as best they could and Clary's gaze shifted to meet Jace's. "You." She said, pointing to him.

She caught Jace off guard, and he almost jumped at the surprise. "W-what?" He stuttered. The only person who could make him nervous. "You don't believe that I remember anything, do you?" She cocked her head to the side, looking at him curiously. "I never said that," Jace shook his head.

"You implied it."

Silence. Silence. And more silence. _What do I say?!_ A stressed voice in Jace's head demanded, working on a suitable response. He shrugged, finally. "Well, I do, Blondie," Clary said. _Blondie_ , that was something he hadn't heard in...forever, it seemed. "Every single thing, ask me anything," Clary said, although it sounded like more of a demand than anything else.

"Alright," Jace said, gripping the plastic footboard of her bed. "How did we become friends?" that was surely something she didn't remember.

"I became friends with Isabelle, she introduced you to me-I hated you. Then, I went to my first high school party, and you being yourself, got drunk, an I had to bring you home. But, of course, instead of telling me your real address, you told me you lived in Olympus, because apparently you were a God," Clary rolled her eyes, "after that, we started hanging out, and then, boom! Best friends," she finished sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. "Next question."

Jace was stunned. She _actually_ remembered that? _He_ didn't even remember that. He gripped the plastic footboard tighter. "What did I do to you in tenth grade?" Jace asked. Clary scoffed at him. "You 'accidentally' dumped your lunch on my head, and then I punched you in the face, and ended up giving you a bloody nose that didn't stop for almost an hour," Clary smirked triumphantly at him, like she was proud of herself.

"Your sixteenth birthday," Jace said, it almost felt like an argument, the way they were shooting out questions and answers.

"We watched horror movies at my house, and when I told you not to get me anything, you went ahead and bought me an anklet. And then, when I was sleeping, you somehow got into my house, and woke me up-waking me from a rather enjoyable dream about shaving off your hair, I might add-all to take me to the park, where you ended up pushing me on the swing."

Jace was caught speechless for a minute, still trying to grasp the concept that Clary remembered their friendship, not just how much she had hated him. It seemed unreal, like an all too good dream that someone would shake him awake from.

"Oh, and you can't forget the time I pushed you in the pool, and then you decided to scare me with an anonymous mask-although, I don't see why you'd need the mask; you're scary enough without it." Isabelle laughed, along with Alec and Magnus. Clary had already told him she remembered that, but still, it was further proof she did in fact remember.

"Why did you want to prove that to me so badly?" Jace questioned, once the laughter died down. Clary hesitated, picking at the thin blanket that covered her. She pulled on a loose thread, unraveling nearly two whole rows of stitches on the blanket. She bit her lip, in that way he loved, and then she looked back up. Her green eyes got glossy as she spoke, "I didn't know it, but I missed you. I missed my idiotic, blonde best friend."

He was rendered completely speechless this time, no way he could recover from what she'd said. All he could do was wrap her in a hug, breathing in her smell of oil paint, which seemed to be permanent, spring-if it had a smell-and right now, blood. It was an odd odour, coppery and metallic in the air. She was surprised at first, probably taken off-guard by his sudden actions, but then, she was hugging him back, just as tightly, if not, tighter.

It was almost like before he lost her. But Jace was no fool, he knew nothing would ever be that way again, no matter how much he wished it would be.

* * *

 **Clary POV**

She had been in that hospital three long, painful slow days. There had almost always been someone or multiple people in the room with her, keeping her company. But at the moment, the room was void of any living thing-aside from her. But she wasn't so sure she could last in the over-clean room without going insane. The lights were too bright and white, the smell of cleaner was too heavy in the air and always present, the room was too clean for her liking in general, not a thing out of place. Nurses had checked in every few hours, or more often, but after the first day, visits had become less frequent-from staff _and_ her friends.

Now, going on her fourth day in the hospital, she watched the sunrise from the rectangular window that stretched across one wall, but was narrow, not very wide at all. After the throbbing and dizziness had subsided on her second day in solitary confinement, she had ripped out the IV tube, so there was nothing preventing her from moving around the room-sae for the heart rate monitor, but it had a fairly long cord, so she had refrained from ripping that one off, too. Besides, it would have probably caused a panic from a few dozen nurses.

Both of her arms resting against her sides, Clary stared out the long, narrow window as the sun rose over the rocky hills, covered in grass. It wasn't too bad of a view, for a hospital room. From here she could she the side of a brick wall, with large, faded blue letters on the it; _Montgomery Regional Hospital_. Clary figured it was the first town they came upon that had a hospital. The never came through the thick clouds of blue, black and gray, though. It was rather disappointing, considering it was usually the highlight of her day. Only two-three days without her friends around, and she was already reduced to saying watching the sunrise was the highlight of her day. Of course, if she had her mother, or Jonathan around, she wouldn't be so lonely, but without any human interaction she was going insane.

Every time someone passed the door, for the first two days, she would turn, hoping it was someone she knew, someone who she could interact with, have a real conversation with, not just a "conversation" with a nurse, that usually went a little something like this; "How are you feeling?" "Fine, thank you." "Do you need anything?" "No," _only a little more human interaction than I'm getting, maybe a stimulating conversation?_

It was beyond frustrating for her. She didn't even have anything to _draw_ with. She wasn't allowed to use her phone, something about it being bad after a concussion? So, in conclusion, she couldn't call Jonathan, and neither could anyone else, because she was the only one with his phone number.

Her mind wandered to Jace. He had hugged her, and then quickly left the room, like he would contract a life threatening disease from spending one more second in the room with them. She hadn't seen him since. And it was bothering her, like an itch that wouldn't go away.

Clary wished she knew why people had stopped coming to visit her, because it better be a damn good explanation. Next time _they_ were stuck in a hospital room, bedridden, and wishing they had visitors to keep them company, she would simply avoid their room like the plague, maybe walk past their room every once in a while, and wave enthusiastically, smiling like a lunatic, as they wished for someone to keep them company in solitary confinement.

Because solitary confinement was what this was. She had no visitors, and the food absolutely sucked, so she hadn't been eating. _Guess who's ribs you'll be able to see by the time I get out of here?_ Clary thought, almost bitterly.

Someone entered the room, and Clary didn't even bother turning around to see who it was-it was most definitely not Jace, or Isabelle, or Magnus, or Alec. Probably a nurse who was going to scold her for being out of bed.

"Ah, Miss Fairchild, I see you're on your feet," the person remarked. Clary turned to look at them, seeing a gray-haired man, he looked young to have grey hair, but it had almost a silvery tint to it, just like the colour of his eyes. Clary nodded numbly, shrugging along with it. There was a small line of blood down her arm, from where she'd ripped out the IV this morning, because a nurse had seemingly re-inserted it into her arm while she slept. "Are you still experiencing dizziness?" He asked. "No," Clary shook her head. He wrote down something on his clipboard. "Well, I have some good news for you, Miss Fairchild," he smiled sweetly. This man couldn't be more than a few years older than her, maybe twenty three? "You'll be out of here tomorrow morning."

"Great," Clary sighed. "Can I have my phone back?" She really just wanted to call Jonathan, and tell him what was going on-maybe he'd come see her?

The doctor chuckled, and looked up at her. "Of course, I'll have a nurse bring it to your room, along with the rest of your belongings." He looked around the room. "Where did all your friends go? They ran down the hall when I told them they could come see you," he frowned slightly, as if the fact that her friends weren't here bothered him. Clary shrugged again, "Haven't seen them. I think they abandoned me."

"Well, just so you know, we tried to contact your mother, but she...couldn't be reached," of course she couldn't-she had her own summer plans with some of her old friends, they were all spending some time in their hometown-Idris?-her, Maryse and Robert Lightwood, the Herondales, Celine and Stephen. And really, just a bunch of people Clary didn't know.

"I figured," Clary replied after a few moments. "She's out of town, and refuses cellphones." The doctor chuckled lightly. "Anyways, I appreciate the news, doctor-"

"Carstairs, James Carstairs," he smiled, and held out his hand for Clary to shake. She took his hand, and gave him a soft smile, before letting her hand drop back down to her side where it had been hanging limply.

"Well, thank you, Doctor Carstairs," Clary said, and he proceeded to leave the room, leaving Clary alone again with her thoughts and feeling utterly lonely.

* * *

Not even an hour later, Clary had back her own clothes-given they were her pyjamas, but they were _something_ to wear other than the itchy, thin hospital gown-and more importantly, her phone. Clary quickly changed, splashed water on her face, and brushed through her hair with her fingers as best she as could. Next, she grabbed her phone, and dialled Jonathan's number. It rung, and rung, and rung. Finally, on the sixth ring, he picked up, sounding sleepy.

"Hello?" He asked into the phone, he sounded as if he had just woken up.

"Jon?" Clary asked.

"Yeah? Clary?"

"Can you, um, maybe come and visit me?" Clary twirled a piece of hair around her finger anxiously. What if he didn't want to see her again? "I'm-I'm at the hospital, and I just really need some company," Clary laughed nervously.

"What?" Jonathan demanded into the phone, he now sounded fully awake and alert. "Did you just say you're in the hospital?"

"Yeah, I kind, of, gave myself a concussion, and I got stitches. I've been here for four days, and I don't know where my friends are."

"Which hospital, Clary?" Jonathan asked, sounding distracted, and then there was the distinct sound of him falling over and cursing loudly. "Montgomery Regional Hospital," she answered. "Okay, that's not too far from here-I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"Bye, Jon," Clary said, and then the line went dead. She was alone with her thoughts again. _Great_.

* * *

Clary stood by the window again, watching as the clouds darkened, looking angry. There was probably going to be a downpour, an awful one at that, most likely a thunderstorm, too. She had thought about calling someone, but couldn't bring herself to do it-if they wanted to talk to her, they would be there, in her room, or calling her; she had no missed calls or texts.

"Clary," Jonathan's voice rang out through the room, as he spotted her standing at the window, her back to him. She turned, to see the relieved look on his face. He walked to her, taking a few long strides, and he was there, engulfing her in a strong embrace. "Clary," he breathed into her hair. "You're okay."

And then, "why didn't you call me?" He demanded, pulling back, his hands on her shoulders, as he looked into her eyes. "I just got my phone back, Jonathan," Clary defended herself. "I've been stuck in this room with no one to talk to for three days-do you really think I would've waited three days to call you if I had had my phone?" Clary raised her eyebrows at him.

"Where are you're friends?" He asked, looking around the room, as if they were hiding somewhere, expertly camouflaging themselves from him. "Jon, I told you, I don't know where my friends are."

"When do you get out?" He asked, letting her shoulders go, and running a hand through his fair hair, moving it out of his eyes. "Early tomorrow, I wish I could get out today," Clary sighed, slumping down onto the uncomfortable hospital mattress. "I'll be right back," Jonathan murmured, and was gone out of the room.

It was ten minutes, before Jonathan returned, a triumphant smile on his face. "What? Did one of the nurses give you her phone number?" Clary deadpanned rom where she sat, head propped up on her elbows, as she slumped on the edge of the bed. "No," Jonathan rolled her eyes. "I just got you discharged from this place."

Clary shot up from the bed, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Seriously? How did you do it?"

"When they asked who I was, I said I was your brother, and that the reason I hadn't been in your file as family was because that I have a different last name-Morgenstern. Which, by the way, is actually your name, too," Jonathan pointed out. "But, either way, they're letting you go, and I'm bringing you back to the beach house-do you have a key?"

Clary had no such thing, only Alec had a key, because he was the "responsible" one. "Nope," Clary replied, shrugging. "But I'll call Isabelle or Magnus, or somebody," she added, as Jonathan opened his mouth to say something. Jonathan nodded his approval, crossing his arms over his chest, as he waited for Clary to make the call.

Clary grabbed her phone from where it rested on the window sill, and dialled-to her surprise-Jace's number. It was almost robotic, the way she knew his phone number. She held the phone to her ear, tapping her fingers on the window sill, as the phone rang. It seemed like a whole lifetime passed before he picked up.

"Clary?" He asked, _such a nice greeting_ , Clary thought.

"Hello, Jace," she snapped back at him.

"Why are you calling me?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by her snappish reply.

Clary scoffed into the phone, "why am I calling you? Maybe because I haven't seen anyone of you in three days?"

"Oh," Jace cursed under his breath. "Sorry, Clary."

"Just-don't worry about it," she sighed, hanging up on him-what use would he be?

"So?" Jonathan prompted.

"Oh, um, yeah I'm good," Clary lied.

"Alright, then, let's get you out of this place. I hate hospitals," Jonathan said, turning to leave the room, as Clary grabbed the rest of her stuff that was stuffed into a plastic bag. "You and me both, Jon," Clary replied, even though he probably couldn't hear her.

* * *

The drive was roughly forty-five minutes, give or take, with all the traffic, and the downpour that had started suddenly, causing them to pull over because Jonathan couldn't see the road through the heavy rain. It sure didn't seem as if they were the same age.

"Here we are," Jonathan sighed, pulling up in front of the house, he looked over at Clary, and she couldn't help but stare at his green eyes so similar to her own. She'd missed those green eyes so much. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Clary nodded her head, "I will. Thanks for the ride, Jon," she said, and opened the car door, pulling out her small plastic bag of things along with herself. The sky had lightened, barely, though, and Clary was positive there was going to be another heavy downpour today. There were a few lights on in the house, and Clary wondered if anyone was even home...she didn't see any cars. Clary shut the car door, almost forgetting about it, and waved to Jonathan as he drove away.

The lonely feeling crept up on her again, as she walked up the front steps to the house, She tried twisting the knob, turning it and shoving at the door, but it wouldn't give. She was locked out. Clary suddenly remembered the back door, and hoped it was unlocked like it usually was. She did the same thing, twisting, pulling and kicking at the door, but to no avail. It, too, was locked, and she had no where to go. Where were her friends?

The sky was darkening again, as she sat on the front steps, waiting for her friends to magically appear, and unlock the front door for her. It was after she'd sat there for about fifteen minutes, that she realized they weren't coming back anytime soon-she'd already known that, but now she was sure of it.

Clary tucked her phone into the pocket of her shorts, and used a hair tie that was in her plastic bag of stuff to tie her hair back. At least she looked kind of presentable now. Jace had been right, she had no money, so there really wasn't much she could do. She didn't really feel like going to the bakery, or the bookstore-in fact, she didn't really feel like doing anything. So, she did nothing, but sit on the steps, waiting for someone to show up.

It was a long boring wait, and they still hadn't showed. Clary had no clue where they could be, and she didn't bother calling.

An hour passed, and Clary found herself drawing pictures in the sand with a stick. Of course, she could just play on her phone, but when she had pulled it out earlier, her resolve to not call anyone breaking, she found her phone dead. Wonderful. Now, she really couldn't call anyone, even if she wanted to.

In the pale sand, she had drawn swirls and diagonal lines, a boring configuration. Originally, she had tried to draw a flower, but it had gotten ruined when she tried to put details into it. Moral of the story? Sand was not good to draw in.

Clary found herself on the stairs again, waiting and watching for any sign of a red BMW, or black mustang. She hadn't any idea why they needed both cars. The sky was just as dreary, bringing her mood down fractionally, as time passed, and they still hadn't shown up. She groaned, as she felt the first few heavy drops of rain spatter down onto her already-cold skin. "Where _are_ you guys?" She muttered to herself. She really hated herself at the moment for not telling them she had been discharged. But would have Jace even believed her? Why had she even called him in the first place? Why not Isabelle, or Magnus or Alec?

The rain drops got heavier, and more frequent, until it was full-out raining again. Clary cursed herself for being so stupid not to call anyone while her phone wasn't dead. She was so bored, what could she do? There was always the beach, but the beach wasn't any fun unless you had someone to go with. Clary frowned at her boredom-at life in general at this very moment. There were big cracks of thunder in the sky, and then lightening, and then more thunder, the cycle repeating itself again, and again, and again.

The rain had let up for a few minutes, only to be followed by an even angrier thunderstorm, with viciously strong winds, that forced Clary to hide under the small roof over the front door, trying repeatedly to get inside. But with her luck, the door wouldn't budge. This summer really wasn't her summer, it seemed.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any worse, the black mustang pulled up, and the only person that stepped out was Jace. Clary was shaking now, from the cold of the wind and rain, her hair wet, clothes clinging to her body, any body heat she had once possessed, gone. His eyes landed on Clary immediately, and he ran up the stairs, golden hair blowing wildly in every which direction. "Where w-were y-you?" Clary said, her teeth chattering, the temperature apparently having dropped twenty or thirty degrees. Jace looked at her guiltily, and shoved his keys in the lock-where had _he_ gotten a set of keys? "We were staying at a hotel," he said, and when Clary shot him a glare, he said, "to be fair, you didn't say you had been discharged."

"You didn't ask," Clary retorted, holding her arms close to herself, hoping to get warmer by doing so. After taking unnecessarily long to unlock the door, Jace pushed it open, the heat engulfing Clary immediately. She sighed softly, stepping inside. "Thanks."

Jace nodded, "why didn't you call?" Clary tossed her phone to him, and he caught it perfectly. "Dead." Clary said simply. "How in the Goddamn world did you afford the cab fair from that hospital back here?"

Clary shrugged, a secretive smile creeping onto her lips despite herself. "Guess it's a good thing I know someone with a car," Jace narrowed his eyes at her, "what did you do? Hitch hike?"

"Perhaps," Clary teased, "but I really don't see why it matters-I'm here now, aren't I?" The next few seconds were a blur, movement, and then she was pinned up against the wall, Jace's arms encaging her. "Clarissa, tell me you didn't hitch hike," his voice was low, and his breath fanned across Clary's face-it smelled like mint-sending unwelcome shivers through her body. She looked at him innocently, wide eyes and all, it always worked with Jonathan and Mom-why not Jace, too? Clary put her hands on his shoulders, feeling him tense under her touch, as she stood on her tip toes to reach his ear, and whispered, "don't worry about me, Blondie," and taking his distracted state, she slipped under his arm, disappearing into the kitchen. She needed coffee.

Clary rolled her eyes, as she felt his heated gaze on her. She was making a fresh pot of coffee, having dumped out the old batch from four-almost five-days ago. Jace said nothing, but continued to watch her, she could feel his eyes, like lasers pointed into the back of her head. Finally, having had enough of it, she whirled around on him, demanding, "what?"

He shook his head, and then walked over to her. "Did you mean it?" He asked, his mind seemed else where, lost in his thoughts, Clary thought, as she hoped up to sit on the counter, her legs dangling over to the edge. "Mean what?" Clary asked, running a hand through her sopping wet hair, again feeling the un-comfortableness of her wet clothes. "That you missed me?" He asked, his wildfire gaze flicking up to meet her green eyes. Even sitting on the counter, she just barely passed his head, given, these counters were taller than normal. "Is it that hard to believe?" Clary asked quietly.

Jace shrugged. "What about all the other stuff-us?" Jace hesitated on the last part, and Clary cocked her head to the side. "You mean like the kiss?" When he nodded, Clary wasn't quite sure how to respond, but tried her best. "Well, I really don't appreciate that you had a bet about me going on," she said. "I'm not some pawn in a game, Jace, I was your best friend, and I trusted you, and I really don't want things like us to stay like they have been."

"Yeah," Jace rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Clary was saved from making an awkward reply, when the door burst open, and from the kitchen, Clary could only see a little bit, but it was enough; Isabelle was sopping wet, hair sticking to her head and clothes. Magnus' glittery hair, which had obviously been spiked, stuck down to his head in a glittery, matted mess, while Alec looked the least abnormal. Clary burst out laughing at the sight, jumping down from the counter.

Isabelle looked-to say the least-relieved, wrapping Clary in a hug. It was a good thing that Clary was soaking wet too, otherwise she'd be cursing Isabelle for getting her all wet, too. "Clarissa Adele!" Isabelle said, Clary guessed it was supposed to sound reprimanding, but all it sounded like to Clary was that Isabelle was very relieved. "Isabelle Sophia!" Clary mocked, pulling away from Isabelle, who rolled her eyes, while Alec let out a soft chuckle.

"How did you get home?" Magnus raised an eyebrow curiously, hands on his hips. Clary wanted to laugh at him, but refrained as best she could, with only a few giggles slipping out. "I found a pack of flying monkeys, and hitched a ride home. What did you think?" Clary crossed her arms over her chest, looking at the soaking wet group they were. She was positive that her t-shirt was still stuck to her, clinging on for dear life.

"I always knew Clary was a witch," Jace grumbled, joining them from the kitchen. He, as always, looked perfect, even with his messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. Clary envied him, and his seemingly magical ability to look great no matter what. "And I always knew you were irritating," Clary retorted quickly, shooting him the sweetest smile she could muster up.

"No, it's just a skill I have-getting on your nerves," Jace smirked, and Clary rolled her eyes.

Isabelle groaned, "will you two please stop flirting with each other? I think I'm going to puke," she fake gagged. Clary's cheeks turned bright red, no doubt out shining her hair. Jace stuttered, grasping for something to say, his eyes wide, as he refused to look at Clary. "Flirting?" "Jace was the first to recover, as usual.

Isabelle, Magnus, and even _Alec_ , rolled their eyes in synchronization. "We all know, lovebirds," Magnus teased. "If it wasn't obvious the way you two look at each other, the flirting would give you away," Clary coughed, choking on her own saliva, bending over, hands on her knees, as she coughed and coughed. No one seemed to be paying any attention, though, as Jace again stuttered for something to say. "No, just...No," Clary said, standing back up after her little coughing fit. She needed to change, so that's what she went and did, followed by Isabelle, Magnus and Alec, each retreating to their own rooms to do so, Clary's fresh batched of coffee long forgotten.

It was going to be a long night. A _very_ long night.

* * *

 **Hey guys! So glad I got this to you before my schedule got busy again.**

 **A lot of you asked for Jace's POV, so here it is! Originally, I had written it in Clary's POV, and everything went down differently, but then I changed it, and it works so much better now.**

 **What do you all think? Leave me a review, tell me everything-suggestions, thoughts, predictions on what is going to happen.**

 **When I reach 210 reviews, I'll post the next chapter.**

 **Hope you all liked this chapter! :)**


	19. Some Inside Joke

Clary had showered, brushed through her knotted hair, changed into a clean pair of clothes, and she felt much better. But her mind wouldn't relax like she so desperately wanted it to, thoughts racing at one hundred miles per minute. It was ridiculous.

But, still, _where had they been? Why were they keeping so many secrets from her? Had the bet stopped when she got into the crash? How had Jace kept his girlfriend a secret from her? What was going on between her and Jace?_ Clary couldn't even begin to form theories in her head about these topics, because, well, she had absolutely no idea.

And out of the blue, her brain decided to surprise her yet again, "Why are you all keeping so many secrets from me?" She blurted, from where she sat on her bed, to Isabelle, who was brushing through her-also wet-raven hair. She stopped dead, her grip on the brush visibly tightening. "W-what?" She stuttered, turning to face Clary.

Clary herself couldn't believe she'd just outright blurted that to Isabelle, but there was no going back now. "What aren't you telling me?" Clary asked quietly. "I feel like there's some inside joke I'm not privy to, ad I hate that," Isabelle sighed, sitting down on her own bed. She looked so guilty, it wasn't a good look on Isabelle. "Ask away, I'm sick of the secrecy, too." It wasn't the response Clary was expecting, but she wasn't going to let the opportunity slip away from her-especially when her brain was about to explode with the amount of questions and blank space's she had.

"Why did you guys just...abandon me at the hospital?" Isabelle bit her lip, but took a deep breath and answered her. All Clary could do was hope it was the truth, this time around. "We didn't want to, Clary, I swear. But, then, Jace went off and we-we just couldn't find him for two days," Isabelle ran a hand through her inky hair, pushing it back away from her face. "When we did find him, it was awful-he came stumbling into the hotel lobby, mumbling about you, saying how much he screwed up, and then he-he started crying, Clary, _crying_."

Clary had never seen Jace cry, no one had. It was like it was a sin to him, crying.

"You know him, Clary, and Alec was so worried, asking him what drugs he was on, and Jace kept saying he hadn't had any-and I don't think he did any drugs, Clary," Isabelle admitted. "He was drinking, those days, drinking more than he did that one New Year, when he got absolutely hammered. He was so hung over, and we didn't know what to do-he just kept sulking, he still is. But you know him and his ego-he won't let you know, Clary, he won't let you see how sorry he actually is. And that's the problem-because he doesn't know how to fix things with you," Isabelle let out a breath. "If he just...If he just _showed_ you how sorry he was, I keep telling him that, the boy is too stupid to listen to me," she glared at the floor, like it was Jace.

"When did the bet-on me-stop? Did he keep it going after I lost my memory?" Clary asked, secretly scared to hear the answer for whatever reason.

Isabelle played with her lip, seeming almost nervous. "He called off the bet as soon as he heard about what happened, and then when he saw you...well, let's just say at that time, it was closet I'd ever seen him to crying. Next question?" Isabelle raised a single brow, even though her gaze was kept firmly on the hard wood.

"How did Jace manage to keep his girlfriend a secret from me?" Clary asked. "I would have noticed, I'm not dumb, and he isn't exactly secretive about that stuff..." She trailed off, and Isabelle let out a small laugh, for the first time since the conversation started, looking up from the floor. "Sadie Carson," she laughed again. "They had to keep it secret; she had a boyfriend already," Isabelle frowned at the thought.

"Wow," Clary deadpanned. "I _really_ was dumb, to think he didn't have a girlfriend for that long," she really felt stupid, not guessing that Jace-who never went more than two days, absolute maximum, without a girlfriend-had had a girlfriend. "Okay," Clary sighed, terrified of what she'd find out if she asked this next question. "What-why do you guys keep saying stuff about the two of us getting together?" Clary clenched her fists together hard in her lap, her finger nails pressing painfully into her palms. She was sure that at the very least, she'd have small crescent indents in her palms after this.

"You don't notice, do you?" Isabelle sighed, propping her head up on the palm of her hand. "Notice what?" Clary asked, her tone flat, which surprised her immensely, considering she was all jittery, and worked up inside. "The way you two look at each other," Isabelle said, seeming a little distracted.

"How do we look at each other, then?" Clary asked, raising her eyebrows at Isabelle expectantly. Isabelle only laughed softly, still there was that hint of guilt on her face, that Clary could tell she was so desperately trying to hide from her. And sadness, it was there, too, and Clary absolutely hated it. "You both look at each other so longingly, even if you're angry at him, it's still there, just under all the anger for whatever stupid thing he's done this time. It's been like that since, hmm, I don't know-Sophomore year?" Isabelle asked, her expression curious.

Clary looked at her, wide eyed, eyebrow's raised. "How did neither of us notice?" Clary demanded, her voice a mere squeak. Isabelle shrugged, "well, first you were best friends, and then you hated each other? Sounds pretty complicated."

Isabelle was more than right; it was complicated. Everything was complicated. Why couldn't life be like the fairy tales her dad had to read her?

* * *

"Clary, where are you going?" Alec asked her, as she turned away from their small group that was supposed to head back to the beach house after dinner at the chip stand, for a bon fire. She loved those.

"Give me a minute, okay?" She said, phone to her ear, the rings echoing through her head. She could hear her friends talking around her, but she wasn't very concerned by them at the moment. On the fourth ring, he picked up. "Clary?"

"Jon, hey," Clary smiled, even though he couldn't see her. After the initial shock-more like freak-out-slash-mental-break-down, she was happy to have him back. "You do know some of us are sleeping at this un-Godly hour, right?" He asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"'Un-Godly hour,' Jonathan? It's almost six! What the hell are you doing sleeping?" She could practically hear Jonathan grinning through the phone. "I was tired?" He tried, but quickly gave up on the notion, asking, "so, what did you call for, little sister?"

"Little sister? We're twins, you can't call me that," Clary said firmly, crossing her one free arm over her chest, she could faintly hear Jace talking with Alec, but she didn't pay him much attention; she was mad at him-and herself, for feeling that way about Jace. "Fine...little sister," Jonathan said, and Clary made an agitated sound into the speaker, shutting him up efficiently. "So," she said. "I was calling to see if you wanted to come over for a bon fire?"

Jonathan was quiet a moment, and then, "I don't see why not. See you soon, little sister," Clary made a noise somewhere between a quiet scream and a groan into the phone, and then the line went dead. "Hate you," she muttered, looking at the phone, as if it could magically send the message to Jonathan. Wouldn't that be something?

She returned to the table, sitting down next to Magnus, and unfortunately, she was across from Jace. Could things be anymore awkward? "I take it he got on your nerves?" Magnus raised a sparkly eyebrow at her, and she nodded, dropping her head against the picnic table. "I hate him," she muttered. "I swear to God, I'm going to choke him when he shows up," Magnus grinned at that. "Sibling love, adorable."

"Yeah, right," Isabelle rolled her eyes. Clary looked up from where her head was buried under a thick layer of unruly, inferno red hair, noticing immediately Jace's angry expression. Normally, she'd pick at him, pestering him until he got even angrier, but at the moment, she didn't really care.

"Are we ready to set a fire?" Magnus grinned, a sparkly eyebrow raised deviously. Clary wasn't sure she was comfortable with Magnus being allowed to set anything on fire-if that boy loved anything more than glitter and Alec, it was definitely, without a doubt, fire.

Jace still had that angry expression on, and was mumbling to himself-or to Alec, who had long ago tuned out. In all honesty, she was still angry about the fact none of them had come to visit her after she woke up. Seriously, who _does_ that? Just leaves their friend in the hospital with nothing to do, and a concussion. It frustrated her to think about, so Clary simply pushed it to the back of her mind, until it would resurface again.

"Magnus," Clary said, folding her hands together on the picnic table. "You are not setting anything on fire, unless it's your hair," she smiled sickeningly sweetly at him, while he glowered playfully at her. His eyes were still lit with that mischievous fire, and Clary shook her head disapprovingly, laughing, and hiding her face with her abundance of red curls.

"Okay," Isabelle said firmly, standing up from the picnic table. "We are going to set up everything," she looked pointedly at Clary, who groaned in response. "And Magnus will not be setting anything on fire. Clear?" Everyone nodded, and Alec let out a, "yes, ma'am," which Isabelle rolled her eyes at, turning on her heel and walking back towards the beach house, not even bothering to see if anyone was following her; she already knew they would.

Magnus fell into step beside Clary, shoving her slightly, which she returned, with much more force, making him stumble, and stop for a few paces. He, having unnaturally long legs, caught up easily. "Satan's off-spring's angry," Magnus remarked, his voice low so only Clary could hear. She shrugged, "why should we care?"

Magnus shrugged, and silence fell over the pair. It was slightly uneasy, most likely only for Clary, because the anger was bubbling up again. She understood that Jace had gone and been his reckless self, and that he needed people to pick him up again. But why on earth did he need Isabelle, Magnus and Alec to help him back onto his feet? A least one of them could have detached themselves long enough from the Jace situation to come and visit her. She internally slapped herself for being so angry at something that had already happened-something she couldn't change.

"Biscuit, you okay?" Magnus nudged her in the shoulder. Clary snapped out of her thoughts, and they cleared away like fog lifting all at once. She nodded, smiling softly up at him. "Yeah, just thinking," Magnus furrowed his eyebrows at her, and then raising one accusingly at her. "About Satan's off-spring?"

Clary looked at him wide-eyed, paling visibly at his words. "Fine," she grumbled, holding up her hands in surrender. "I was thinking about why he was angry," she lied. Magnus didn't need to know what she'd really been thinking about. "He really doesn't like your brother, huh?" Magnus said, looking ahead at something. Clary frowned at the air, as if it in some way had done her wrong. "What do you mean?" Clary asked, feeling as she were missing an obvious piece of the puzzle.

"You don't notice it?" Magnus asked, his voice sounding genuinely curious. "Notice _what_?" She asked, sand getting into her shoes. It was one of the things Clary hated about the beach; sand everywhere. Magnus chuckled softly, before answering. "He's always been protective over you, even before the accident. You _must_ have noticed that," he said.

Clary gave him a questioning look, what _had_ there been to notice?

"You're kidding me, right, biscuit?" He asked, the glitter on his eyes shimmered in the sun. "I'm afraid not, Magnus," she replied. What was she missing? "Ever wondered why no one would ask you out?" Magnus prodded. She had, but never really questioned it-she hadn't really want a boyfriend, anyways. "Not often," she said simply.

"It was funny, really," Magnus noted. "He would find out that a guy was going to ask you out, and scare them off. He didn't notice it, and apparently neither did you, but he looked at you. He looked at you in this way that none of us had ever seen him look at any of his girlfriends before," Clary was so completely confused; why did everyone keep saying these things about her and Jace? "And," Magnus continued. "He got even more protective-if that's possible-after the accident, trying to do it subtly, so you wouldn't notice. He doesn't like Jonathan because he thinks that Jonathan will just leave you again, and he knows it would make you upset- _I_ know it would devastate you, biscuit.

"But I know Jonathan-and I know he would never leave you if he didn't have to." Magnus added, as they got closer to the house. The others had gotten far ahead of them, so they had plenty of time to talk. "And I'm assuming you know about what happened, and why we didn't visit you?" Magnus asked, eyebrow raised at her expectantly.

"Yeah," Clary said. "I know." She crossed her arms over her chest, the afternoon air turning to a chilly night breeze. The sun was beginning to set, and she knew it wouldn't be long now before it was completely dark outside. "Do you know why he did that?" Magnus asked, and without waiting for a response, continued talking. Clary didn't know how he could talk so much without hurting his jaw. "He didn't think he deserved your forgiveness, Clary. I could tell."

Clary shook her head, "well, he doesn't need to worry, then," she said, walking up the front steps to the house, leaving Magnus at the bottom. Half way up, she turned back to him, "because I haven't forgiven him."

* * *

The night was beautiful, with bright white stars piercing the dark vale of black that fell upon them. The fire crackled, shedding orange and yellow-toned light onto them all. It made Clary's hair look almost as if it were on fire. It was just past eight, and Clary was still waiting on Jonathan. Even when he'd lived with them, he had never been punctual, always late-for everything. Clary was positive he would be late for the birth of his children, as well.

Just as the final thought ran through her mind, bight headlights caught her attention, and she turned her head to look at them. It was Jonathan, alright, with his music blaring, and windows down. His salt-white hair blew around in the air, settling over his eyes. He looked ridiculous. He proceeded to get out of his car, slamming it behind him, and then he impatiently brushed the hair out of his eyes. His face cracked into a smile, ass his eyes landed on Clary. When he got close enough, Clary stood up, and walked over to him-it had taken all of her restraint to not run right up to him and squeeze the life out of him. His arms were open, and wrapped around her when she hugged him immediately. "Hey, Clare," he said, pulling away from her. "Jon," she greeted. "Are you always late?" She raised both eyebrows, not being able to raise one, and all.

He shrugged, "usually," Clary let out a breath of air, and turned away from him, to sit back down beside Isabelle on the blanket that lay overtop the sand. Jonathan sat himself down next to Clary, much to Isabelle's dislike, because she wouldn't even look at him. Alec, Jace, and Magnus were all squished together, trying to sit on one blanket, because, well, Jace wanted to sit with Alec, and so did Magnus. So, in the end, poor Alec ended up squished in the middle of the two boys.

Clary caught Jace glaring at Jonathan, who was easily returning it. She cleared her throat. "If you boys are done with your staring contest, we can set up Magnus' fireworks," Clary said, standing back up and brushing the sand off of her clothes. Almost instantly, Jace and Jonathan's attention snapped to her. "Fireworks?" Jonathan raised a pale eyebrow. "Why did you bring fireworks on a trip?"

Magnus smirked wickedly, giving Jonathan no reply. "Because Magnus likes fire, like, a lot," Isabelle answered, surprising Clary. The inky-haired girl stood a little ways away, tearing open the box of fireworks. "It sets off my..." Magnus paused, thinking. "Glitter! It sets off my glitter!" He replied excitedly.

"I don't think I've ever seen so much glitter in my life," Jonathan murmured next to her. Clary shrugged, saying, "you get used to it."

-*#*-

The fireworks had been a gorgeous display of colours; green, blue, red, gold. Explosions of colour, almost. Magnus had been absolutely entranced by them, while Clary's fingers had itched for her sketchpad and pencils. But, she had been a little distracted, what with Jace's gaze flickering from her, to Jonathan-where it would turn into a cold, hard glare she knew a little too well. And at the moment, he was still staring at her, and it was crossing from the line of creepy-which had been crossed during Magnus' firework display-to down right weird, and stalker-ish.

Finally, after two more minutes of the stalker-like staring, Clary snapped. "Take a picture," she ground out through gritted teeth. "It'll last a whole lot longer."

Jace's gaze snapped away, but returned only a second later. "Well," Jonathan said from his seat beside her. "I'm going to head home, Clare. It's getting late, and my roommate is always whiny about having to let me in late at night."

Clary turned her attention to her brother, an amused look on her face. "Is this roommate of yours a girl, by any chance?" She teased. Jonathan rolled his eyes, "no, _he_ is a boy-and before you even _think_ of saying anything, Clarissa, I do not swing that way." Clary giggled, and gave him a quick hug, "bye, Jon," she said into his band tee. He squeezed her tightly, and then let go, waving as he walked back to his car. Clary waved back, even as she felt Jace's eyes on her. Jonathan sped off down the road, leaving Clary to turn back to her friends. "You can stop glaring now," Clary snapped at him. Isabelle let out a long yawn, stretching her arms up above her head. "You guys _still_ sound like an old married couple to me," she said, her tone without regret at what she'd just said. "I wouldn't say that, Iz," Alec warned, obviously seeing Clary's murderous expression. "Listen to your brother, Izzy. You might just wake up without hair if you don't," Clary smiled devilishly at the girl, who gulped, taking a few steps back, probably thinking she was being subtle about it.

"Well," Magnus said, standing up, pulling up Alec with him-who let out a yelp of surprise. "We'd love to stay and watch this unfold, but not really. I, for one, don't feel like waking up without my hair," Magnus shot a pointed look at Isabelle.

Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest. "You won't do it," she said to Clary, as Magnus and Alec walked up the steps. "Oh, I won't?" Clary raised her eyebrows, smiling a little. "Well, I'm tired, too. I'm gonna head upstairs, to get out the clippers and replace Isabelle's shampoo with hair removal cream." Clary pretended to be surprised, covering her mouth with her hand, laughing softly, at Isabelle's afraid expression. "Oops. Did I say that out loud? Goodnight, Isabelle," Clary gave a teasing wave as she retreated up the steps, into the house. Jace was glaring at the ground still, and Clary rolled her eyes-something she was sure no one caught, since it was so dark out.

But just as she turned, she caught Jace looking up at her with this sort of desperate expression on his face, mouthing something at her retreating form. She wasn't sure what it was, considering her lip-reading had never been all that good. But this phrase seemed a simple one. Something she couldn't completely play off as him cursing her out. Because that was far from it. So very far from the truth of what he'd said.

 _I love you._

* * *

 **Hey guys! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I was a little stuck on what to write in the beginning, but reading all your reviews helped me get through yet another bout of Writer's Block.**

 **I left a lot of holes in the last chapter, a lot of missing explanations, and trust me, there was a good reason-and, well, now you know what it is.**

 **So, I guess this is it for this chapter.**

 **Hm.**

 **Leave suggestions below for anything you would really love to see in the next chapter-I'm always open to hear your opinion.**

 **Leave me a review, please?**

 **If I get to 250 reviews before I post the next chapter, I'll add in a special Jace's POV in that chapter or the next.**

 **:)**


	20. Aftermath

For the next few days, Clary sat in her room, not eating, just thinking. Thinking, and thinking, and thinking some more. _I_ _love_ _you_. Those words would normally stop any girls world, make them the happiest girl alive in that moment, but all Clary felt was confused.

She couldn't wrap her head around why Jace was being the way he was, acting the way he was, and then something that could've stopped Clary's heart all together. And all the old feelings coming back weren't helping much, either. Isabelle had tried coaxing her out of the room, or into having an actual conversation-she had succeeded once, in getting Clary immersed in a conversation, but it quickly died off, and Isabelle had awkwardly left the room.

This was not the summer she imagined.

Because the summer she imagined was full of swimming, having fires, hanging out with Isabelle, Magnus and Alec-maybe even Jace every once in a while. But, no, that wasn't meant to be, apparently. Her summer was instead filled with swimming, occasional fires, confusion, anger, more confusion, sadness, Jonathan coming back from the dead, and who knows what else was going to happen? Clary didn't want to find out, if she was honest with herself.

There was knocking on the door, and Clary lifted her head from where it rested between her knees, and then dropped it again. She wasn't in the mood for human interaction. Everything was still sinking in, and she knew if she opened that door again, something devastating was going to come hurtling towards her, and knock her right back onto the hardwood, when she had only just begun to stand on her own two feet again. The knocking sounded again, bouncing off of the walls. "Go away," she croaked, her voice hoarse from not being used. "Biscuit, let me in," Magnus pleaded. "Please."

Clary shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Biscuit," Magnus said again. "You can't stay in there forever, and you have to eat something-I don't care if it's the dirt off of the floor, but you have to eat," Clary wanted to laugh, but she just couldn't make the sound come out. She felt dead. She felt like the life had been sucked out of her. It wasn't something she wanted to feel anymore, she just...didn't want to feel anymore.

"Magnus," Clary said softly. "I can't."

* * *

 **Jace's POV**

Clary had been in her room for days. She wasn't eating, and she won't talk to anybody. He wanted to make it all better, take all her pain away...but he couldn't. She didn't trust him anymore, and he wasn't sure how to fix it.

"She's going to rot away in there," Isabelle said worriedly, twirling her hair, a habit she seemed to have picked up when she was worried or anxious. "Iz, she has to come out eventually, give her time," Alec said, reaching up to get a cup out of the cupboard. He turned on the faucet, letting the water run. "Where's Magnus?" Isabelle asked, it seemed talking was keeping her busy-keeping her mind off of Clary-so they just let her.

"He wanted to try talking to her," Jace said, running a hand through his already-tousled golden locks. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes, and messy hair. He hadn't been sleeping, that much was evident. And all of his thoughts were plagued by _her_ , by Clary. "She won't talk to me, what makes him think she'll talk to him?" Isabelle demanded, her cheeks flushing a light pink colour. She was getting frustrated with everything that had happened thus far, everyone was. This trip wasn't supposed to be like it was, it was supposed to be fun, they were supposed to make memories...he was supposed to fix things with her. But her remembering had screwed everything up, and Jonathan coming back from the dead made things ten times worse than they had already been.

Jace slammed his fist own on the counter, angry at his own thoughts; it wasn't Clary's fault she remembered, but it was their fault for keeping it from her. It wasn't Jonathan's fault that he wanted to be in his sister's life again, but he just picked a really inconvenient time to miraculously come back from the dead. Magnus trudged down the stairs, head hanging low, eyes heavy-lidded. He looked defeated. "Let me guess," Isabelle sighed, propping her head up on her hand.

Magnus shook his head. "She said three words other than 'go away'," he slumped into a barstool, and where glitter would usually ran down in a fine spray, there was nothing, and then Jace realized; Magnus wore no glitter. He didn't have on any extravagant colours. His hair was spiked up, and he looked normal without all of his usual glitz and glamour. "What were they?" Isabelle asked quietly. It was like she was just a shell, now, and it bothered Jace for whatever reason. But nowhere near as much as Clary hurting bothered him. When he used to say he loved her, it was always in that friendly way, you know, when you said "I love you, you stupid idiot," and then shove them? But then things started to change, and he kissed her, and she had kissed him back. And he just knew, and he kept telling himself over and over again; _I am so screwed_. His past self had no idea how right he was.

These past years when Clary didn't remember him, it hurt. Hearing her say she hated him was like being stabbed in the heart a hundred times over. He would never admit it, but he had said the L-word to her the other night, and he wasn't sure why.

 _You're pathetic_ , a nasty voice in his head hissed. _You can't even say it in your head, what makes you think you could ever say it out loud? To her, no less?_ Jace wanted to slap himself in the head, to get the voice to stop talking, but he new he'd look more than a little odd, so he refrained from doing so. Suddenly, though, he had an idea. Standing up from his slouched position against the counter, he took a deep breath and began walking towards the staircase. "Jace, where are you going?" Alec asked, setting his glass down on the counter and taking an obviously cautionary step towards him. "I'm going to talk to her," he said firmly, gold hair falling into his eyes.

"Jace-" Alec started. "That's not such a good idea," Magnus finished, his hands on the counter, as he was preparing to stand up and go after him, if he made a run for it, or something. "You all had a shot, I think it's my turn," Jace said, and without another word, he walked up the stairs, only stopping in front of Clary and Isabelle's room.

He folded his left hand into a fist, and knocked on the door loudly, that way she couldn't say she hadn't heard him knock. There was rustling on the other side of the door, but no footsteps towards the door. "Clary, let me in," Jace demanded. Nothing. No reply, just silence. He tried to turn the door knob, to push open the door, but it was locked. Of course it was. "Clary, I'll kick the door in if I have to," he warned. There was no way in hell he was letting her-someone he cared about immensely-stay locked up in their room like a hermit crab, until they turned eighty-years old or starved to death.

"Leave me alone," said a soft voice on the other side of the door. "Not happening," Jace informed her, taking another deep breath, and he prepared to break open the door. He pulled on the door knob, hard, punching the door, too. The door swung open a little bit from the force of the hit, showing Clary's side of the room. But she wasn't laying in her bed, no, she was sitting on the floor by the window that looked out onto the beach. "Congratulations," she said sarcastically, but it didn't sound like her heart was in it. "You've saw what a mess I am. Will you leave now?"

Instead of answering her, Jace walked over to where she sat, plopping down beside her. "You need to leave this room, Clary," he said softly. She looked at him, up and down, as if analyzing him. She had dark circles under her eyes, as if she, too, hadn't been sleeping. Her hair was a mess of gorgeous red curls, her usually bright green eyes were puffy, and red-rimmed. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she'd been crying. "You were crying," Jace muttered, looking away from her, to his feet. He couldn't stand seeing her sad. "Maybe," Clary replied, her gaze drifting back out the window. She felt a million miles away, even though she was sitting right next to him. "Why won't you come out of your room?"

Clary shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this," she said sharply. "Why not?" Jace pushed, he probably seemed like he was enjoying seeing her like this, but he knew if he pushed her a little bit more, that spark she had about her would come back, chasing away that lifeless look from her eyes. "You don't get to ask the questions," she snapped at him. "If anything, I should be asking you about the other night." Jace couldn't believe it-she had caught that?

"What are you talking about?" Jace tried to keep his voice even, to keep her from knowing he was lying. Usually it was easy to lie, but with her being the only one who knew him so well, he was almost positive she'd figure it out. "Don't play dumb," she narrowed her eyes at him. "You said you loved me-well, kind of, but still," she looked angry, her cheeks flushing bright red-it was so adorable. Jace mentally slapped himself; _focus!_

He sighed, covering his eyes with his hand. "You caught that, huh?" She nodded, "uh-huh."

"Well, I feel stupid," Jace muttered to himself.

"You should," Clary snapped at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You do all of those things, and then you just-you-ugh!" Clary sounding exasperated, sunk back against the wall, glowering at him. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling sheepish. "I'm sorry about all of it, Clary," Jace tried. "I really am. I was just-you know, I can't even find the right words for once," he laughed at himself. The atmosphere was awkward, and he didn't know how to continue.

"Huh," Clary said. Nothing more, nothing less, just "huh" what did that even mean? Was she still angry, or upset? Jace couldn't tell for life of him, but her expression, usually so open, was cold and closed off. " _The_ Jace Herondale, rendered speechless-never thought I'd see the day," Clary muttered.

"Only you," Jace replied. Almost instantly, Jace wanted to reach out, take the words back, and shove them back down his throat. She looked up at him, cocking her head to the side, she looked almost curious. "What?" She asked, her gaze flickering back out the window, as if she was too nervous to look at him. "What did you say?"

"You're the only one who's ever done that to me," Jace clarified; no use hiding what he said. Clary seemed amused by the idea, as she twirled a strand of fiery hair around her finger, looking out the window. "You know, you're a real ass," she said flatly. Jace nodded, he knew that he probably deserved a lot worse than just "you're a real ass," but he stayed silent. "Seriously," she turned her gaze back to him. "You cheated on your girlfriend, for what? A kiss with your best friend?" She scoffed, shaking her head.

Jace was once again, rendered speechless. How was he supposed to explain to Clary that he had fallen in love with her? It was just then that he noticed their proximity, just how close they were sitting together. "I did," he said, his breath lifting up a piece of her bright hair. "And I didn't regret it for even a second," he leaned closer to her. He noticed Clary's copper lashes fluttering open and closed, the fine dusting of freckles across her skin. She was beautiful, Jace knew, he'd known that for a long time, but he also knew that Clary didn't believe that for even a second. He wished he could convince her other wise. "I hate you," Clary said against his lips.

And then they were kissing. His mouth moving against hers, breathing in her scent of fresh flowers, and laundry soap. He remembered the first time he'd kissed her, she'd smelled like paint-probably because she'd been painting-he remembered the way she'd laced her fingers through his hair, the way she'd blushed vividly afterwards. "I know," Jace said in between kisses.

* * *

 **Clary's POV**

He had smelled like pine, and sunshine-if sunshine had a smell, that is. His mouth had been warm and soft against hers. Now all that was left of that kiss was the sweet tingle on her lips, as hot water scorched her fair skin. She usually had all her best ideas while in the shower, partly because it was so quiet, and because there was nothing to do but think. And now all she could think about was Jace, and how flushed he'd looked when he pulled away from her. How he'd given her his customary, lopsided grin that showed off his chipped incisor. She smiled despite herself.

Turning off the water, Clary stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. Her hair was dripping down her back, which was a little annoying, but she ignored it, as she brushed her teeth, brushed her hair, and then slipped on a pair of shorts, and an old band tee she'd stolen from Simon-It was _Panic! At The Disco_ , could you really blame her? When Clary threw her towel into the hamper by the door, and then pulled open said door, Isabelle was waiting for her on the bed. She looked up at Clary and smiled softly. She looked very un-Isabelle, if that made sense; her inky hair disheveled, dark circles decorating her under eyes, wrinkled clothes.

"Clary," she said. "I don't know what to say, other than, drink this coffee before I shove the cup down your throat," Clary's eyebrows were in her hairline, as she took a few cautionary steps backwards. Isabelle was holding out a light green, ceramic mug that was steaming. "Clary, you haven't eaten in God knows how long," Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Take the damn coffee-I know you missed your caffeine." And she couldn't have been more right. Clary all but ran over to Isabelle, stealing away the mug, downing about half of it in under thirty seconds. She reveled in the delicious flavour and the sweet, sweet aroma of the coffee.

Magnus knocked on the door, but came in before either Isabelle or Clary got the chance to say anything. "I brought cookies," he grinned, holding out the plate for both girls to see; each and every cookies was buried under what Clary hoped was edible glitter. "That's-it's-um," she stuttered, pointing to the cookies. Magnus waved away her concern," it's edible, relax." At that, both girls pounced on the plate, devouring the cookies. Clary swore her eyes rolled back in her head, as her stomach growled, reminding her just how hungry she actually was. If there was one thing that Magnus was the absolute best at, it was baking cookies; he could be a master baker, if he wanted. "My God, Magnus," Isabelle practically moaned around a mouthful of cookie. "How the hell do you make such good cookies?" She demanded. Clary laughed, taking the last cookie from the plate. It was covered in a mixture of green, blue, and purple glitter. And it was all falling off the cookie, onto the floor, as Clary ate it.

"Now," Magnus raised an eyebrow at Clary. "None of the rest of us could get you to rejoin the land of the living, so, what did Satan's off-spring say to you?" Clary went still, pieces of un-swallowed cookie still in her mouth, her face turning beet red. Gulping it down, Clary tried to regain her composure, "uh, he-uh," she stuttered, grasping for something to say in the blankness of her mind. Isabelle's jaw dropped, and her eyes lit up-if obsidian eyes _could_ light up, that is. "He kissed you! Didn't he?" Clary's face turned even redder, her eyes dropping to the floor. "He did! He did!" Isabelle cheered, pumping her arms in the air. "My little biscuit kissing her sworn enemy? No way," Magnus shook his head. "It's not the first time, Magnus," Isabelle said. "You've seen it with your own eyes."

Magnus scoffed, turning his head, all the while rolling his eyes. "Fine. But I swear on my glitter supply if that boy hurts a hair on your head, biscuit, he will not live to see a last sunrise," Magnus' tone was so serious that all Clary could do was nod her head, and hope that she didn't still look like a tomato. "Now," Magnus clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Since you have decided to come out of hibernation, we are going to watch Teen Wolf together," he grabbed Clary's wrist, pulling her out the doorway, Isabelle in tow.

* * *

Clary shifted on the couch, wondering where Alec and Jace had disappeared to a little while ago. She mentally shrugged, and turned her attention back to the television screen. They were re-watching season three of Teen Wolf, which Clary loved, but she didn't know if she could handle the final; having to relive Allison's death would be too much, she feared.

"Oh!" Magnus squealed excitedly. "Look at that boy," he ogled Stiles on screen. "He's mine," Isabelle shot back. "Ladies, ladies," Clary put a hand on each of their arms, her gaze going back and forth between the two. "He's mine," she said, dropping her hands into her lap, and then turning back to the television. "I am not a lady!" Magnus protested, but Clary simply waved him away, her attention solely focused on what was going on in the world of Beacon Hills.

* * *

 **Jace's POV**

Jace and Alec had gone out for a bit, just for a walk around the small town. And now, as Alec walked ahead of him into the dark house, he stopped by the living room, spotting a dull light coming from the room. He was betting that Clary had fallen asleep watching television.

Sure enough, Clary lay there asleep against Magnus' arm, while Isabelle leaned on Clary. They were all sound asleep, and the television showed the main menu screen of what they had been watching-Teen Wolf? Sounded corny. Jace couldn't keep his eyes off of Clary, and how at peace she looked while she slept, her soft breathing covered by Magnus' loud snoring. He fought the urge to plug Magnus' nose, and watch him wake up in a panic. But, not wanting to disturb Clary's sleep, he left Magnus alone. He walked over to the front of the couch, bent over, and placed a gentle kiss on her temple, brushing some of her bright red hair out of her face.

* * *

 **Hey guys! So, I felt really weird writing for so long in Jace's perspective, so I'm really sorry if this chapter is sucky.**

 **I don't know.**

 **Leave me a review, and give me suggestions for what you'd like to see in the next chapter.**

 **:D**


	21. Is This A Date?

**Hey! I'm back! And guess what?! This story has 211 follows and 108 favourites! This was my first story ever on this website, and I never thought anyone would actually read it—so for this wonderful experience that encouraged me to keep writing and develop my skills, I thank you immensely.**

* * *

The air was warm, and heavy, the sky painted a brilliant denim blue. How could things be so...perfect, when her world was tearing at the seams? Jace nudged her with his elbow. She stumbled over her own feet for a second before frowning up at him. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes melting to molten gold, but otherwise, said nothing - a feat which seemed impossible for Jace, once upon a time.

Isabelle, only a few feet away, was generously applying an orange, runny liquid over her skin. As she rubbed, it turned clear, her blemish-free, pale skin seemingly absorbing the fruity-scented substance. "Want some?" She shook the bottle in Clary's direction.

"I'll pass."

"But, Clary—you're so pale—" the raven-haired girl protested, dropping the bottle onto her Thor towel, so obviously borrowed - ahem, _stolen_ \- from Simon.

"And I don't tan—I burn, so, no, I will not put on tanning lotion." With that, Clary unfolded her own superhero towel, laying it down on the sand. She may be seventeen - nearly eighteen, but that didn't lessen her love for all things supposedly childish. Because superheroes were cool and awesome, and not to mention, certain superheroes looked super hot shirtless. It was a proven fact.

"Are you okay?" Magnus asked tentatively, peering out at her through lowered sunglasses. His long once-gangly limbs stretched out over his too-short towel.

"Fantastic, thanks for asking," Clary replied venomously. Where the sudden anger had come from, she didn't know, but judging from Magnus's reaction, he was just as surprised by it as she was. She felt remorse, but knew that if she were to open her mouth again, more venom would come rushing out, eager to poison her friends.

"Let's go swimming, I'm going to burn to ashes if I don't cool down," Isabelle whined. "Before one of you says something more idiotic than the last..." She finished, her tone low as she grabbed her brother's hand, dragging the tall, muscular boy into the water, Magnus got on their trail like a puppy. She could feel eyes weighing heavily on her, though she refused to look back—even when someone wound their hand in hers, pulling her out to the water.

She could still feel the water lapping at her exposed legs, the way her hair had pasted to her head and back as if the water were glue. Even more, she remembered the exact feeling of Jace's hand entwined with her own. Sitting, staring down at her phone now, she wished she were still sizzling under the blistering sun, she would even wish to be dunked under again if it meant that she did not have to make this call—but she did, and nothing could change that fact.

Summer was coming to a close, her birthday approaching rapidly, and it seemed even the usually noisy crickets knew it, somehow. Because tonight, they were utterly silent, almost as if they were holding their breath until Clary put the small device to her ear.

And it was with a shaky finger that she dialed that phone number, the one she knew like the back of her hand. Though, in all reality, she didn't know the back of her hand all that well.

The dial tone sounding in her eardrum like a warning signal: _hang up! Hang up!_ Being the hard-headed person she was, Clary kept the phone stuck to the side of her face, waiting for her mother to answer.

"Oh, Clary! How are you sweetheart—,"

"Mom, I know." Clary cut her mother off curtly, something she wouldn't typically do, but now was not the time for pleasantries.

"Know what?" Her mother must be feigning curiosity, the innocence in her voice. What _else_ would Clary know? Perhaps that her mother liked to cross dress and was secretly a popular stripper at a local strip bar? Yeah, _sure_.

"That you lied to me about Jon: about the crash."

"Honey—what—what are you talking about?" Her mother laughed nervously into the receiver.

"My memories have been coming back, little bits here and there." Clary sighed, bringing her knees up to rest her chin on them. "Why did you do it?" She finally asked after the heavy silence pressed too heavily on her shoulders.

"I thought it'd be better that way. You always think you did something wrong, and I refused to let you take the blame for your father's death..." she trailed off, leaving a blank space in Clary's head. "The doctor promised me your memories would come back—but after three years, I gave up on the idea completely."

Clary choked down a sob. "I got a concussion, and it all came back like a tidal wave washing away a small town. Everything I knew these past three years has been a lie, Mom."

"Clary, I know it won't fix anything, but—I'm sorry."

* * *

As Clary sat staring blankly ahead of her, she realized her mother was right: nothing she could say would compensate for what she did—for what any of them did.

"Clary," Magnus crouched down beside her, pushed a piece of hair from her face. "You can't sit here all night, you realize. What Jocelyn said couldn't have been that bad—,"

"It wasn't," Clary cut him off. "Just..." She trailed off, at a complete and utter loss for words that could describe what she was feeling. "Awful." She decided—because it was _awful_ ; the raw ache and guilt lacing Jocelyn's tone had been too much. Her mother hadn't meant to put her through this confusion and pain—she didn't believe any of them meant for her to suffer like she was.

Magnus clapped a hand on her small shoulder. She could feel the evidence of recent glitter-use on his fingertips, the grainy scratch against her skin. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that it were Jace's hand on her shoulder, his calloused fingertips tickling her skin ever so softly. But it was not Jace seated beside her on the cold floor, with his aureate pools staring at the side of her head worriedly. No—it was Magnus, with his black hair, tinted blue from when he'd tried to die it but forgot to bleach it first. It was Magnus, with his blue, glitter-coated, neatly trimmed eyebrows. It was Magnus with his tan skin and yellow and gold eyes, lined with a sharp cat's eye. It was her best friend beside her.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Because this was not some fairy tale, where Jace got to swoop in and be the night in shining armor. This was cold, cruel reality, where the good guys don't always win, and where you don't ever really get to live happily ever after. This was the reality where her friends stood even with the golden boy that had her feelings all jumbled and her heart beating irregularly in her chest.

"Come on, Biscuit," Magnus wrapped a hand around her twig-like arm. "Let's get you upstairs to bed - you're falling asleep on me, and, no matter how much I love you, I absolutely, _one-hundred-thousand-percent do not_ want your drool on my _favourite_ metallic blazer." In response, Clary only giggled softly and allowed Magnus to pull her up the wooden stairs that, at some point, had started to creak.

How Clary secretly wished to be living in ignorant bliss again—even for just a moment.

* * *

 **Jace POV**

He had paced the stretch of his small, boxy room for much too long before coming to a decision. Because he couldn't stand the idea of heading off the college without having taken her out at least once.

So it was with his heart violently hammering against his rib cage, on the brink of exploding out of his chest, and with shaky fingers, thrumming with nervous energy, that he clamped said hand down on her ivory shoulder, sprayed with a copper coating of freckles.

She mumbled incoherently in her sleep, jerking away from him, turning the other way. She tugged the blankets with her, exposing her milky legs—he wondered if they were as soft and smooth as they looked—Jace sucked in a sharp breath. Her shorts had ridden up her thighs, and if he didn't know she was wearing them, he would think she weren't wearing any pants at all.

"Clary," he said, barely keeping his voice a whisper—Isabelle was sound asleep in the bed next to Clary, and the last thing he needed was to wake her. "Clary—wake up," he squeezed her shoulder gently.

Her eyes fluttered open, exposing to him her beautiful eyes—sparkling like newly polished emeralds. "Jace?" She yawned his name, rubbing at her eyes with fisted hands.

He hummed a reply, brushing fiery strands of silky hair from he face. "Get up," he whispered.

"Hm—why?" Clary tugged at her blanket, tucking the material under her small, delicately chiselled chin.

Jace rubbed at her shoulder again. "Because we're going out." He let out a quiet, shaky breath—what if she flat out rejected him? He wouldn't put it past her, because she _did_ hate him only a month and half or so ago.

"Where?" Clary sat up, something with a semblance to excitement burning in her dancing eyes.

Jace grinned at her in faint light of dawn filtering in through her bedroom window. "It's a surprise."

* * *

When Clary had bounced down the steps a few minutes after he had woken her, he noticed instantly her habitually-vibrant hair falling in thick, dark tendrils against her blue shirt, and her legs on display in denim cut-off's, he very nearly had lost his breath. Never had Jace seen a girl the was he saw Clary, and quite frankly, it scared the hell out of him.

He remembered her smiling softly at him, "where are we going?"

"Patience," Jace had shot her a crooked grin in return, showing off his chipped incisor.

Clary hade made a whine-like noise, coercing him to smirk—just a little.

And now as they walked down the side of the road into the small town, he debated furiously with himself on whether or not he should take her hand in his own. They were walking close together—it would be so _easy_ to just grab her hand and cover it with his own. But he was nervous and it was not, by any means, natural. He was a natural ladies-man, a flirt, and he could woo a girl like it was nobody's business. And yet he couldn't work up the nerve to take the hand of this petite red-haired beauty walking beside him.

Jace led them into a bakery—the bakery he that she knew loved—only to discover it the most crowded he'd ever seen it since the first time he had been inside nearly a month ago. Clary turned to beam up at him, and it all but made him melt before her into a sappy puddle of adoration. He was lost in the tiny gold flecks within her eyes, lost in the small dimple she got when she smiled so brightly, lost in trying to figure out what she was thinking, he was lost in her entirely.

That is, until Jace caught sight of a few gangly, leggy kids eyeing her up and down. Jace gabbed her hand, tugging her towards the counter—but not before, of course, sending the group of gawking boys a lethal glare that would have had them lying on the tile floor of the bakery, skin icy and without the privilege of a heartbeat.

When Jace returned his attention to Clary, she was chatting up the boy behind the counter, his black apron and hair covered in flour. He wasn't sure what the two were talking about, just that Clary was laughing at whatever the boy was saying, and that the boy was grinning at her happily as she laughed. Her laughter was a musical sound, and he loved it—he just didn't love that it wasn't him that had caused the noise to erupt from within her.

Was he—was he _jealous_? The last time he'd been jealous over Clary was when she...dated rat-boy. Given, it only lasted two weeks, but it had still turned him green with envy and made him see red whenever he saw them together. And now to see this boy—who had obviously treated her with nothing but kindness—

He squeezed Clary's small hand in his own. She returned the pressure, still talking animatedly with the boy—when a tan-skinned girl with tightly-wound curls and deep pink lipstick pushed through a side door, handing the boy a box. She looked from the boy, to Clary, to Jace, then back to the boy, pursing her lips before slipping through the side door once more.

"Thanks, Seb," Clary smiled at the boy. "You did an amazing job on the cupcakes."

"You haven't even tasted them," the boy—Seb—raised an eyebrow at Clary.

Clary rolled her eyes at the charcoal-haired boy. "Shut up, Mister I-can't-bake. I'll be back for more," Clary warned him, turning back to Jace—to his relief. She held up the white box, as if it were supposed to mean something to the tawny-eyed boy. Seeing that he wasn't going to say—or do anything, she sighed, pulling him from the bakery.

"They're red velvet," she informed him. "The kind you seem to love—considering you ate the whole last dozen I bought," the petite girl grumbled. He chuckled at her, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair affectionately—something he would have done without hesitation three years ago. But things were different now— _they_ were different now.

 _And I am so screwed_ , Jace thought, though he couldn't bring himself to frown or even lessen the size of the crooked grin he had on display for the redhead to see.

* * *

He took her down to the park, where he discovered she could still climb trees as if she were Katniss Everdeen—yes, he had read the Hunger Games, and loved it for that matter.

"Wow," Jace laughed brightly, holding up a cupcake to her where she sat on one of the lower branches.

"What?" Clary challenged, gently taking the cupcake from his hand, proceeding to lick the cream cheese frosting from the summit of icing on the dessert. He smiled at the sight—some things never changed.

"Nothing," Jace shook his head, in the same that he always used to attempt to clear his mind of a certain subject—or person. But in this instance, the person would never leave his mind completely. She would always be there, whether he liked it or not.

"Liar," Clary mumbled around a mouthful of cupcake.

Jace, leaning against the trunk of the tree, called up: "did you just call me a liar?"

"Absolutely," Clary's voice bounced around the interior of his skull. He had never met another girl—besides Isabelle, of course—who would say whatever they pleased, when they pleased around him. Normally, he could turn girls into a stumbling, stuttering puddle of nervous goop with a single look. But Clary was someone else—someone special. The thought that he would have to give her up in a sense when he went to college was—it just wasn't something he favoured pondering over, even if he _did_ do it a lot.

The breeze blew around Clary's hair, and the rustling green leaves brought out her eyes, somehow making even more beautiful—and when her eyes sparkled and shone the way they were at that moment—he wanted to kiss her. He really, _really_ wanted to kiss her.

Christ—he was starting to sound like on of those sappy guys in romance novels. Though, if he _were_ in a romance novel, he'd definitely be the one every girl fell for—and not to mention, he'd be buff beyond belief...not that he already wasn't—

"Jace, did you hear _anything_ I just said?" Clary raised her copper eyebrows at him, swinging her legs back and forth.

He looked up at her apologetically. She sighed, feigning exasperation, and rolled her eyes. "I asked if this was supposed to be a date. So...is it?" Jace swallowed, the same nervous energy he'd felt earlier pumping through his veins. His heart beat erratically in his chest cavity, and his hands shook so badly he tucked them hastily into the pockets of his jeans.

"Uh—um...Maybe?" Jace stuttered, his cheeks lighting a bright crimson. Clary cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, smiling in that adorable way of hers—the way she does when she's staring at something she loves—the way she smiles at Jonathan, at Simon, at Isabelle, at Magnus, even at Alec. The thought that Clary loved him made his hands shake more, if possible, and made his heart beat so strongly in his chest he was almost positive there was someone in his chest with a jackhammer on high power.

Clary was giggling, wind blowing fiery curls into her face. "Jace Herondale—," she cut off, launching into yet another fit of those giggles that Jace could have listened to for years without tire. "And Clary Fairchild—," she giggled a little more at her name, burying her face into her hands, leaning so forward on the tree branch Jace feared she might fall off. "Dating?" She finally finished, face matching Jace's own, eyes glossy with tears of laughter.

"Who would've ever thought, huh?" His Adam's apple bobbed. Clary watched as he slunk into the tree, and for the first time probably ever, he wished he could disappear completely.

"Everyone," Clary whispered, and Jace knew she was right, he wasn't sure how he knew it, but he just did. He watched with interest as she gripped her hands tightly on the rough bark of the branch she was perched on, and pushed off. She landed on the ground a few feet away from him, hair flying willy around her face, green eyes wide, and knees braced apart, like a fighter ready to spring at their opponent. Some part of him—that part that was becoming an annoyingly, infuriatingly normal part of him—found it kind of hot.

She brushed her hair away from her face with a rushed hand, walking over to him, and sliding down the tree next to him. Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around her, the gold of his skin contrasting greatly against the pallor of hers. And to his surprise, she didn't push him away—she snuggled more into his side, her cheek resting just below his collarbone. He rubbed his hand up and down her spine, fingers splayed out across the small surface.

They sat in silence, though it wasn't pressured or heavy, or anything along those lines. And he enjoyed it immensely—he enjoyed just sitting there with her.

"Jace?" Clary piped up, interrupting said silence.

"Hm?" He hummed, kissing the crown of her head.

"I think—I think I love you."

* * *

 **All right, so first off—I'm back! Thank you to everyone who was so patient with me about my lack of updates for this story.**

 **A whole lot of things happened in this chapter, and it's a lot better written than the other chapters of this story—at least in my unpopular opinion.**

 **I hope I get more inspiration for this story, the way I did mid-chapter.**

 **And, sadly, this story is coming to a close soon. I'm thinking 5-6 chapters, maybe 7 or 8 more, I'm not sure yet. There will be an epilogue,, because I can't end the story it is going to end and then leave you all with nothing else—I love you all too much for that.**

 **So, leave me a review about what you thought about this chapter, and tell me a song you think suits this story!**

 **Once again, thank you for your Jem-like patience with me!**

 **:))**


	22. Eighteen

**Hey! I've missed you all. I've missed updating so, so much.**

 **Special thanks to my freaking amazing beta: HeronFrayWood, who took the time to edit this long-as-hell chapter.**

 **And it makes me so sad to say this story is coming to a close rather quickly. Originally, I was going to write to separate chapters, one to kind of make Clace's relationship official, and then another for Clary's birthday...but then they just kind of ended up merging together and I think it worked out beautifully.**

 **I'd really love to know what you all think because this might be the last chapter besides the epilogue. I want to be selfish so much and drag this story out as long as I possibly can because...well...okay lets start from the beginning.**

 **So this was my first ever story that I wrote-the very first one I uploaded to the site. And then I had tones of inspiration and kept updating, and I was just amazed by the response and how it was all unfolding and utterly speechless at the fact that I was developing writing skills. And then...my inspiration just kind of died out. And I couldn't get the words out. It sucked so much. But I pushed myself to update-and that gave you the last two or so chapters. And once I got further into this chapter, I just couldn't stop writing, and then later when I had finally finished it at around 7673 words, I was going over it, editing small things, I realized this could quite possibly be the last chapter if I wanted it to be, though I refused to acknowledge this. And then when HeronFrayWood said it after she'd finished beta-ing it, it sunk in, like _really_ sunk in: I just wrote my very first story. And it's all coming to a close.**

 **So, I guess all that's left to promise you is an epilogue (that will leave you in tears) and to thank you all for the patience and support you've shown me. It encouraged me to continue writing.**

 **Go, my youngling, and read the last chapter.**

* * *

Clary felt immensely stupid. Why would she say such a thing? And if Jace's shocked silence was any indication, he was more surprised than she was by her slip up. She wanted to slap herself on the upside of the head, but Jace did not laugh. He did not look at her as though she had lost her less-than-stable mind, either.

She wanted to say something, but her voice would come out squeaky and her face would turn redder than it already was and—

Jace turned to her, colour high in his cheeks. "I-I think I love you, too," he stuttered, looking, in Clary's opinion, adorably flustered.

* * *

Clary regarded her bustling, chatting friends with distaste. Not exactly her friends, but what they were talking about—what they were rushing about to accomplish: her birthday party.

Clary had never really bothered with her birthday before, never really cared, to be quite frank. But nowadays, with Isabelle all but breathing down her neck, she had no choice but to grin and bear each and every party.

"What do you think, blue, _gold_ and white, or blue, _purple_ , and white?"

"How many streamers do you think we'll need?"

"How much glitter should I put in my hair the night of?"

"Cupcakes or a full-on cake?"

The words flew from her friends mouths like bullets from a fully-loaded machinegun—with backup ammunition—and she caught none of them, only bits and pieces here and there. "Isn't this a bit much?" Clary piped up after sitting in the exact same spot for three hours, having been told not to move in the rare case that Isabelle or Magnus, or—heaven forbid—Alec needed her opinion and or help with something. And what was worse than sitting in a chair, stiff as board for three hours, afraid to move for fear of being hit by the things being thrown around every few seconds, was the fact that Jace wasn't even there to keep her company—he had gone to pick up dinner for all of them, seeing as how none of them wanted to cook, and none of them were willing to risk eating any of Isabelle's food.

Isabelle loosed a sharp, piercing gasp. "How dare you? _A bit much_ is the amount of glitter Magnus uses on a daily basis, _not_ —"

" _A bit much_? _How dare you_ , Isabelle Sophia—"

"Oh, I _dare_ , Magnus Bane—more like bane of my existence—"

"Shut up!" Alec bellowed, hammering his fist down on the counter adjacent to him. His electric blue eyes penetrating through both Isabelle and Magnus, both mid-argument. His sister's glossed lips agape ever so slightly, pink colouring her cheekbones, while his boyfriend's blue-and-black hair hung down untidily, covering his purple-rimmed eyes.

"Okay," Clary let out an exaggerated sigh, blowing a strand of scarlet hair away from her face—only to have it drop back down into her line of view this time. "Magnus, you do use an unhealthy amount of glitter on a daily basis. And Isabelle, this is all a bit much—I'm only turning eighteen—"

"That's exactly my point!" Isabelle wailed, throwing her head back in exasperation, her arms outstretched in disbelief. "You only turn eighteen once, and—"

"I think she knows that, Izzy," Alec interjected, his lips pursing into a thin line of resignation when the raven-haired beauty shot him a deathly glare, her charcoal eyes narrowing menacingly at her older brother.

"As I was saying, you only turn eighteen once, and you're technically an adult now—well _almost_." Isabelle gestured with her hands, expressing her frustration at Alec and Clary's obvious lack of common sense with an ostentatious groan. The older girl threw herself down in the nearest seat, which happened to be the seat Clary had vacated not five minutes ago.

Alec snorted. "Izzy, she's not an adult—and neither are you."

"How would _you_ know?" Isabelle raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

"Because—," Alec laughed sharply. "You're barely out of high school and couldn't support yourself if your life depended on it, Isabelle." His penetrating gaze seemed to anger Isabelle to no end, her face turning what would have been, in other circumstances, an alarming shade of red. The colour rivaled Clary's hair for the reddest thing in the room.

"I am not a _child_ , Alexander!" She spoke with such venom, such hatred laced her words. Clary had only had the displeasure of meeting this Isabelle a few times, and though she could not deny that Alec deserved what was to come—because he, unlike most people, knew that challenging Isabelle and or hurting her pride was just asking to pay the ultimate price—Clary would not wish his fate upon any other.

"God, Isabelle!" Alec scoffed angrily, throwing his lengthy arms out to the sides, Magnus narrowly avoiding his boyfriend's swinging arms. "Why do you have to make everything so difficult?"

"Well, after all, I am nothing but a _child_ , Alec. Shouldn't you expect less from a _child_?" Isabelle snapped her head away from Alec, her pin-straight locks following the action, collecting on her right shoulder.

"That's not what I meant, and you _know_ it, Isabelle."

"Look at you, Alec, arguing with a _child_ —how petty." Should looks have suddenly gained the ability to slowly, torturously kill someone, that's exactly what Isabelle's intense glare at her brother would have done to the Lightwood boy.

"Come on, Biscuit," Magnus situated his tan hand around the redhead's waist, gently tugging away his friend. "They'll be at it all night," Magnus sighed, and Clary regarded him with a blank stare. He looked older than he had when they had first arrived a month and a half ago in Virginia.

Clary only hoped that she hadn't been the cause of the sudden aged look in his eyes.

* * *

Clary and Jace ate in silence, the only sound being their quiet breathing and the occasional loud slurp as Jace ate his moo shu pork. Clary had picked at her Pad Thai, using her fork to push the food around the interior of the white takeout container for a long while before resigning and setting the aforementioned takeout container on the island between herself and Jace.

"Clary," Jace sighed, pushing away his own food. "It's not your fault."

The redhead only shrugged, keeping her eyes focused solely on her hands, laced together in what felt a delicately sewn pattern that could unravel with the slightest tug on one of her many loose threads.

Technically, she had started the fight still raging on between Isabelle and Alec. She immensely regretted opening up her mouth in the first place, and it now seemed best to leave said mouth closed.

"Clary, look at me." Still she refused, and refused again when she felt Jace's hand softly caressing her cheek. Her instinct was to lean into the touch, but she held herself back, her posture remaining stiff and rigid. Jace made a sound, somewhere between annoyance and irritation. Without warning, Jace's hand was holding her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. She tried her best to keep her eyes away from the heated tawny pools in front of her, roaming around the empty kitchen.

" _Look at me, Clary_." Unlike moments ago when he had first spoke the words, these were _not_ a warning. She wasn't sure what the words meant this time around, and frankly, she did not care. Clary jerked out his grip, muttering something about being tired and retreating up the stairs, unbeknownst of the way Jace stared at her as she walked. He wasn't quite sure what his words had meant, either. And what seemed worse, he knew about as much about where he stood with Clary as he did about extraterrestrial life.

* * *

The next morning, Clary was not awoken by Jace. As she passed his room on her way out the door, adjusting her bikini top, she heard no sound coming from his small, boxy bedroom. Not even the faintest intake of breath. And despite how little she had cared about Jace at the beginning of summer, she cared now, and she hated the worry that weighed her down like an anchor in her stomach.

But it seemed only natural she care, right? After all, she had told him she loved him yesterday, and he had spoken the same words back to her. Though what if he had just said the words in the heat of the moment, as much as she had, but didn't truly mean them? If that was the case, Clary could not imagine anything more devastating, as corny and cliché as it sounded.

If Jace could pretend it didn't happen nor did it affect him, then Clary could too. It was these words that she repeated like the chorus of a song stuck in her head as she marched down to the beach, towel hanging off of one arm, sketchbook and pencils gripped tightly in her left hand.

* * *

The sun was hot, as per usual, and the sky was an impossible turquoise colour. Clary deemed it the perfect day for drawing. And just as she had imagined what felt like years ago, the breeze lifted her hair off of her bare shoulders, caressing her freckled skin gently, refreshingly.

" _Clary_?" Someone called out in disbelief, making her jump—though she would have never admitted it. She was only glad that the voice calling out to her hadn't made her jerk her hand, otherwise she would have had to start her drawing all over again—something she would not have been so very pleased about, as, if she did say so herself, her drawing looked amazing.

Clary's gaze wandered upwards, stopping on a bright face, all but beaming down at her. The redhead returned the smile with ease. "Sebastian?" She gave him a disbelieving grin, though she wasn't sure why; he worked at the bakery in town, so why should she be surprised to see him at the beach?

Sebastian nodded, his long legs reaching her spot on the beach as she patted the empty space on her rather large towel for him to sit. He sat cross-legged, leaning forward, palms flat on the worn material of the Ironman towel. "What're you doing here, all alone, no less?"

Clary shook her head, lips pursed. "If you met my friends, you'd know there's only so much time you can spend with them before wanting to stab them each about three-hundred and eighty-nine times." Sebastian cocked his head at her, dark eyes bulging at what must have been the vivid image she painted in his mind. Liking his reaction, Clary continued on. "But then I start thinking about how tedious and messy the clean up process would be, stabbing four people that many times. _God_ ," she groaned for effect. "They would bleed out on the hardwood and stain it—do you know how _hard_ it is to get blood stains out of hardwood?" Clary demanded. Sebastian simply regarded her as though she were a psychopath whose company he very much enjoyed, smiling faintly.

"And how would you know how hard blood stains are to get out of hardwood?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Clary looked back to him, tapping out a rhythm with her pencil on the sketchbook page. "I nearly bled out on hardwood once, so, you know." She shrugged, trying to push down the awful memories that flooded her mind, the familiar feeling of being lightheaded and oh-so very dizzy at once coming back to her with all the force of a raging hurricane.

" _Seriously_?" The midnight-haired boy gaped at her, and it was only then, in her slightly lightheaded state, that Clary noticed his lack of shirt. He had abs, much like Jace, and— _stop_. Clary could not wrap her head around the need to always compare other boys to Jace that seemed to consume her. Jace consumed her, plaguing her thoughts asleep or awake.

Clary nodded her head at the pale boy, envious of how the sun glaring down at them seemed to make his ashen skin glow, while hers simply burned like kindling. "Yeah, I've got the scar to prove it—I think somewhere near my forehead or the top of my head...?"

Sebastian demanded to see, because he didn't believe that such a thing could happen to such a "sweet girl" like herself. And they went on like that, laughing and talking, the sun getting higher in the sky with every minute they passed together by the waves.

* * *

 _ **~Jace~**_

He pushed himself harder. It was always _harder_ , _faster_ , _further_. His legs burned with the effort he was putting forth, sweat beaded on his tan skin with the energy he poured into the activity. He could run miles—and he already _had_ —but _she_ was still stuck in his head, refusing any notion he made for her to leave. And even if she did leave, she would always be there, branded onto his skin whether it was visible or not. The appendage in his chest, beating wildly as his breathing became heavier, seemed to beat _faster_ , _wilder_ , _restlessly_ when she was around, when she graced her fingers across his skin, when her lips pressed against his.

He was screwed, and he knew it. He was completely, utterly, irrevocably screwed.

Jace ran and ran, until he spotted something in his peripherals vision: a flash of red. He knew—he knew _damn well_ —he should stop assuming everything red was Clary. But, still, Jace turned his head to see, just to see if it could be—

He nearly tripped over his own feet, his mind telling him to stop but his body wanting to keep going.

Because there was Clary— _his_ Clary, sitting beside a dark-haired boy, talking animatedly, throwing her head back with laughter. Something like jealousy coursed through him, something more powerful and hungry than mere jealousy alone. Without the slightest idea what he was doing—or what he was to say when he did reach Clary—he changed direction, walking further into the powdery, dry sand. The sand that was beginning to stick in between his toes certainly did not improve his mood, nor did it do anything to sublimate the swelling anger within him.

"—yeah, and then Isabelle made me wear these heels—they were ridiculous, if you would have seen them I'm positive you would have run away like the little boy we both know you are—and then she tried to teach me how to walk in them," Clary let out a groan, covering her face with her hands, peeking out at the boy through her slim fingers.

The closer Jace got to her, the better he could hear them, the more panic fluttered in his chest: what was he going to say? Technically, he had no claim on her, they weren't even dating, despite the meek _I love you_ they had traded.

"Clary," he called breathlessly. And then, to his complete astonishment, she turned to him with a wide smile. It was the kind of smile that split your face in two, the kind of smile that was so bright the sun would pout in sheer envy, the kind of smile that made you smile, too, no matter what mood you had been in before.

"Jace," She said, seeming just as breathless as he, despite sitting still. Jace took a place beside Clary, even if he was slightly over the edge of her towel and sitting in the sand.

"Seb, this is Jace my—"

"Boyfriend," Jace wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. He felt her stiffen for a beat before ultimately turning to face Sebastian, blushing through her slowly forming sunburn.

Sebastian smiled at Jace, though there was something in his eyes that Clary might have missed, or passed off as something else, but Jace saw it—he saw it and squeezed Clary tighter to him. "Ah, the infamous Jace I've heard so much about," Sebastian grinned good-naturedly, though Jace was having next to none of it.

"Funny, I've heard nothing about you," Jace murmured, shooting Sebastian a pointed smirk. He felt victorious for whatever reason—and Clary was his prize.

Clary slapped his chest. "I told you about Sebastian plenty of times, idiot. You just refused to listen," Clary stated firmly, though she does not shake off his arm like he expected her to do. It makes him smile softly into the crown of her head as he presses a soft kiss there. He feels Clary move closer to him, the sun beating down relentlessly, warming their skin.

"How much longer are you here for?" Sebastian rounds his attention back to Clary, popping his jaw.

Clary looked up at Jace, shrugging. "I think we're leaving just after my birthday?"

Sebastian simply nods his understanding, before opening his mouth once more. "When _is_ your birthday?"

"The twenty-third."

"Clary, do you realize that's on _Sunday_? It's _Friday_ today—there's literally _two days_ until your birthday!" Sebastian exclaimed, throwing his hands in the hair, manifestly frustrated but more over, exasperated with his friend. "You must think I'm sort of creative genius with the ability of super-speed to give me only _two days_ to make you a cake!"

"You have Maia," Clary shrugged once more. The names were as unfamiliar to Jace as was the notion that Sebastian was to make Clary's birthday cake; had Isabelle planned that? Looking at Sebastian now, though, Jace could vaguely remember seeing him at the bakery yesterday when he and Clary went on their date type thing. Truthfully, most of yesterday's events barely held a candle to the bright light that was Clary saying the one thing he had always wanted to hear come from her mouth in more than a platonic fashion. _I love you_. The words still sang through him. Jace was positive that not even a diet of energy drinks could bring him this electric feeling.

"Jace," Clary nudged him with her elbow. "Jace, wake up."

"Hmm?" He hummed, ghosting his fingers up and down her bare waist. She shivered at the touch.

"Sebastian had to leave—," Jace hadn't even noticed, "—do you want to go swimming? You're all sweaty." She made face, scrunching up her nose. Jace loosed a deep chuckle that resonated through Clary. In response to her question, Jace stood, extending his hand to the petite girl still sitting with her legs comfortably folded beneath her. She took his hand, allowing Jace to pull her to her feet, quickly shedding her three-button shorts. Jace grinned at her, feeling his pulse quicken as he tugged her along and into the clear blue water.

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

"You are not getting out of this. Accept it. Embrace it." Magnus let his eyes flutter closed, mock-meditating, taking a few deep breaths.

Isabelle bumped him aside with her hip. "To Edom with acceptance and embracing her fate! Just sit still and we won't have a problem."

"Edom?" Clary raised her eyebrows, and thinking how that if she could have just one birthday wish, it would be to be capable of raising just one at a time.

"It's a synonym for Hell...I think." Isabelle tapped the end of her makeup brush against her jaw, staring up at the bland ceiling stuck in thought. "Pick up a book, Clarissa," she finally tsked. Magnus gave a throaty laugh, swinging his curling wand about—despite the fact that it was heated to over four-hundred degrees—and yes, _his_ curling wand. Apparently Magnus needed a curling wand, and she'd left it at that, not wanting to know—or caring—how managed to curl his own hair.

"I'm going to sit still just for fear that Magnus will not hesitate to burn me with that thing." Clary pointed a now-polished and painted finger at him accusingly.

Magnus grinned wildly at her in return. "You bet, Biscuit." At this, Clary's eyes widened to a point that should not have been possible, though she did not move as Magnus set to work brushing out her natural—and stubborn—curls. He would then proceed to wrap a strand of hair around the curling wand, and when he moved onto another strand, the previous was left frizz-less and shiny. Clary tried to twirl one of the curls around her finger, only to have the heat of her hair scorch her finger. She yelped, squeezing her finger to try and ease the pain. "I told you to sit still," Magnus simply hummed in reply, not bothered in the least by her interruption.

There was also the fact that Isabelle would hiss angrily at her every time she did something as simple as blink. So between Magnus and Isabelle, Clary had her hands tied—quite literally, Isabelle had promised if she did not stop moving and fidgeting or just making any normal movements in general.

Not to mention the fact that it was seven-thirty in the morning, on her birthday.

* * *

For all the suffering, Clary thought she looked amazing. She'd earned minimal verbal lashings from Magnus and Izzy, which she knew was partly because it was her birthday.

 _Eighteen_ , Clary thought, staring back at the girl in the mirror; she didn't _look_ any different, nor did she _feel_ any different. And she didn't believe her brother would look much different than he did yesterday, either. The first thing she had done that morning before being tied down by Magnus and Izzy was call Jonathan and wish him a happy birthday.

"Happy Birthday, Clare," Isabelle's eyes shone as she turned Clary by the shoulders, smiling faintly. The redhead could tell her friend was trying to keep her expression blank, but was failing horribly.

"What? What did you do?" Clary smiled, unable to help herself.

Isabelle bit her lip. "Come on," Clary followed hot on Izzy's heels down the stairs, her eagerness fuelling every step in her pinstripe leggings.

Clary heard voices. She heard a voice she shouldn't have heard—that shouldn't have been there. At the bottom of the stairs, was Simon. Simon with his shaggy brown hair falling into his chocolate eyes, Simon with his glasses and his band-tee.

She launched herself into Simon's arms, not caring about whether or not they'd end up on the floor, laughing in disbelief. Wasn't he supposed to be in Miami with his mom and sister all summer? Simon hugged her back with just as much fervour as she hugged him, squeezing her just as tight, if not tighter than she held him.

"Hey, Clare-bear."

"I missed you, but you didn't have to come all the way here for me." Clary spoke into his chest, refusing to let go of her best friend.

"I'd do anything for you."

* * *

She spent all morning with Simon. Whether it was visiting the record shop they had in town, or just making stupid jokes, she enjoyed his company immensely after being without it for so long.

It was around noon when they arrived back at the house, where Jace pulled her away from Simon, kissing her. Simon stared at the pair, dumbfounded: weren't they supposed to hate each other?

"Jace," Clary murmured against his lips. "Simon is right there."

Jace made a soft noise. "That's cute; you think I care."

"It's cute that you think I _don't_ ," Clary retorted, pushing Jace away. She was quite surprised when he didn't pout at the action. But then again, Jace wasn't one to typically show emotion if front of people that weren't her or Alec.

Simon stared, bewildered at his friend. "You two—dating— _no way_ —I don't believe it—my brain is either going to explode or implode—I _knew_ it!—How?"

Clary made a face, the corners of her mouth turning downwards despite the laugh she was trying to stifle and her eyebrows being sky-high. "Si, I think you need to breathe."

"I can't breath!" Simon exclaimed breathlessly, throwing his hands in the air as if asking the man in the sky for all the answers. "Clary Fairchild, _dating_ Jace Herondale! That is news, if you hadn't noticed. And it is news that I have not heard up until now—how could you not think to mention it to me during one of our phone calls?!"

Jace rolled his aureate eyes. "Shut up, rat-boy."

Clary slapped him in the chest, scolding him with something along the lines of "be nice!"

"I will _not_ shut up!" Simon stopped his foot indignantly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose from where they had slipped—which ruined any effect his words might have had.

"Then maybe breath? Because you're turning a little blue," Jace offered insincerely. Simon huffed in response, crossing his arms like petulant child.

"Si, why don't you go see Izzy? She's been missing you," Clary offered in her ever-sweet voice, batting her copper lashes just ever so slightly to convince him.

Simon grumbled a response, his arms still crossed over his lean chest even as he trudged up the stairs reluctantly. Clary sighed, resting her head on Jace's chest and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart that she could have sworn jumped when she made contact with him.

* * *

Jace had taken her out for lunch, and from there on out, they did not have a plan. Not that Clary was complaining, as this allowed her many opportunities to steal kisses—to which Jace had no objections, either.

"When are you—," Clary swallowed, hardly able to get the words out. "When are you leaving for—for college?"

Jace refused to look her in the eye, suddenly very interested in the sale sign in a shop window across the street from them. "A few days after we get back to New York," he said finally, to which Clary nodded. Of course she had known that Jace had to leave for college—at some point, at least,—it was more so that she had not wanted to acknowledge the fact. Now she had no choice but to accept it and deal with it.

And she would do nothing but accept it and deal with; nothing but grin and bear it. She would _not_ be the person to hold Jace back from the things he wanted to do, the last thing she would ever want was to be that person to him—to _any_ one of her friends.

"If it was my choice, you know I wouldn't leave you. You know that, right?" Jace stopped walking, grabbing his other hand so that he held both of him in his larger, sun kissed ones. His thumb rubbed circles on her left hand, his tawny pools locked on their inter-wound hands.

"It's not my choice, Jace. I don't _ever_ want it to be my choice; I hope you know that." Clary was thankful for the makeup she wore, for it felt like a shield. It was a shield that would block her emotions from reflecting onto her face. Because if she was honest with herself, she wanted to be selfish, to keep him with her always. She took a deep breath. _I am not that person, I am Clary Fairchild: sweet, kind, giving, stubborn, fiercely loyal and selfless_. She repeated the sentence like a chant in her head. _Selfless, I am selfless_.

"Are you alright?" Jace tilted her chin upwards, gold and green meeting. The tawny curls atop his head shone in the mid-afternoon sunlight. He was the most beautiful person she had ever met—and not just because of his _Abercrombie & Fitch_-worthy looks. It was his flaws, his quirks and mannerisms that made him beautiful.

 _I am Selfless. I will not be selfish with Jace_.

"Yeah, fine. I just..." She faltered, turning her head to the left, watching as a woman pushed a brown and blue baby carriage. She could not look at Jace, for fear that a few traitorous tears would fall free and betray what it was she was feeling beneath her shield of makeup. "I just—my head, it hurts a little."

He pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. "All right, come on, I think you've had enough sun for one day."

* * *

"Remind me why you're taking off all of the makeup you spent so much time on?"

"Because it'll all come off in the water, that's why." Isabelle clicked her tongue at the redhead.

"Whatever you say, boss lady." Clary mock saluted the girl kneeled in front of her, the fine-tipped liquid eyeliner brush poised professionally in her right hand.

"Don't move, or I'll castrate you." Isabelle warned, biting her lip as she brought the fine-tipped brush across Clary's lash line.

"I don't believe you can castrate a girl," Clary mused, trying her best not to move or let her eye twitch.

"I'll gut you like a fish, then. How's that?"

"Perfect."

They sat in comfortable silence as Isabelle worked determinedly. Clary still wasn't quite sure why she required waterproof makeup to go swimming and celebrate her birthday with a bonfire, but she kind of liked the way makeup made her look, even if she sucked at doing it herself.

"Done," Isabelle dropped her mascara onto her bed, unzipping one of the many bags that had been shoved away in some dark corner of the closet. Clary eyed the girl curiously, but kept silent. At long last, Isabelle freed a box from the bag, the corners dented and the blue bow tied on the box frayed at the ends and a little loose. With pride shining in her eyes, Isabelle handed the white box over to Clary.

"Izzy, you didn't—you shouldn't have gotten me anything." Clary stared at the white box perched in her lap.

"Just open it," Isabelle commanded excitedly. "You're going to love it, I know it."

Clary tugged on one of the frayed ends of the blue bow. It came loose easily, falling to the floor in a swirl of Caribbean blue. She pulled the top off of the box, gasping loudly, her eyes wide and searching Isabelle's. "Why would you get me something so expensive?" This time, it was Clary's turn to demand.

Isabelle dismissed her friend's words with a wave of her hand. "It's a polaroid camera, Clary. I wanted you to have more to remember your eighteenth birthday by than a few fuzzy memories—the camera will only ensure that doesn't happen."

Clary shook her head, allowing her fingers to ghost across the white plastic of the camera— _her_ camera. She lifted it up, weighing it in her hand. Beside it lay a few packs of film. Clary smiled up at Isabelle, who was smiling softly herself.

"There's something else; look." Isabelle said softly, her voice unusually quiet.

Indeed there was: a white bikini. It was not just any bikini. Clary could remember pointing it out to Isabelle in a boutique in New York a few months before, wanting to buy it for their trip—this very trip—but the price had nearly made her choke on her coffee and so she had put it back on the rack. It was a white Milly bikini. Isabelle spoiled her. She didn't deserve such an amazing friend.

"Izzy," Clary whispered, wrapping her friend in a tight embrace.

"I want you to know, Clary, that I'm sorry—so, so, so sorry for everything I hid from you these past years." Isabelle's voice was thick with...with tears? Clary pulled away from the dark-eyed girl, baffled by the rather large droplets rolling down Izzy's cheeks. The long-legged girl used the pad of her thumb to swipe away the tears.

"I know that Iz, but why are you crying?"

"Because," Isabelle breathed a laugh, swiping away her tears once more. "I never thought all of us would make it to eighteen."

"What?" Clary laughed breathily.

"I thought someone would end up murdering Jace, I figured Magnus would get arrested for robbing stores of their glitter supply. Not to mention Alec—I thought he would break his neck if he managed to fall down the stairs another time, and I figured you would have...would have died in that crash." The tears returned to Isabelle's obsidian eyes, glossing them over.

"But we all made it—I guess the only thing we can do is wait and see if we all make it to twenty."

* * *

Clary was astounded. Absolutely, hands-down astounded by the effort her friends had put into her birthday party. There were pillows and blankets and towels covering the sand, all surrounding their previously-made fire pit. Fairy lights were strung through the branches of trees, and there was a plethora of food.

And then, there was her brother, sitting on the blankets, grinning madly at her. She tackled him in a hug, remembering a time when she would sulk in the dark, wishing with all her heart to just feel her brother's arms wrapped around her one more time.

Jonathan laughed, sitting them back up, Clary still hugging him tightly. She refused to let go. "Happy Birthday Jon," she murmured into his shoulder.

"It's not only my birthday, if I recall correctly. I think I have a twin somewhere."

"You're an idiot."

"I love you too." And with that, Clary let her brother go, resting her head against his shoulder, staring at the oh-so-carefully arranged wood in the fire pit. She was a little tempted to kick it all over with her foot an watch it fall down dominoes.

"Happy Birthday!" The voice startled her. She pivoted, her eyes meeting Sebastian's. He grinned happily at her, holding up a tall box. "Do you think you could let me inside?"

Clary giggled and nodded, hurrying to open the door for Sebastian who was threatening to topple over from the weight of the cake in his arms.

* * *

Cheering surrounded her, albeit it was quieter than what she had originally expected. "Happy Birthday, Biscuit!" Magnus engulfed her in a hug, smoke still swirling about faintly in the air from the eighteen candles on her enormous, three-story cake. Sebastian had truly outdone himself.

Alec handed her the now-dried photographs he had taken with her polaroid camera. The first was of her blowing out her candles, and, admittedly, it was a fairly good picture. The second photo was of her and Jace, his arm slung her waist, his lips pressed to the top of her head, while she was smiling widely, laughing at joke Sebastian had told.

"It's not just my birthday," Clary pointed out.

Sebastian cocked his head slightly. "Well, who else?"

Clary flung her arm around Jonathan's shoulders, grinning ear-to-ear at Sebastian. There was a bright flash and Clary knew that Alec—who had seemingly deemed himself their professional photographer—had taken another picture. She was positive she would love it. "Seb, meet my twin brother, la plus grand imbécile du siècle." Only Magnus laughed.

"Care to explain what's so funny?" Alec raised an eyebrow at his glittery boyfriend.

"She—just—called—him—the biggest—idiot—of the century," Magnus laughed, his breath coming in short, wheezing pants. Clary's brother in turn, in true Jonathan fashion, looked down to glare at her.

"That's your brother?" Sebastian asked, slight shock and complete disbelief spread over his face.

"Mhmm," Clary hummed, choosing to ignore Jon's glare.

"Well, Happy Birthday, then," Sebastian smiled.

"Now, who wants to go swimming?" Isabelle grinned, and it was only then that Clary noticed just how much they had all been grinning that day, and how odd it seemed to have everyone so happy for her.

* * *

Clary loved her new bathing suit, period. And more than she loved the article of clothing itself, she loved the attention it drew from Jace. His warm chest was pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"You look so—," Jace pressed a kiss to her jaw, "—so beautiful."

"Stop," Clary murmured. Leaning her head back against his chest, she peered up at her boyfriend— _boyfriend_ , even the word felt surreal.

"Alec, do you not know how to use a lighter? Jesus Christ, it isn't that _complicated_ —" Alec glared at his sister, flicking the lighter, watching with something akin to smugness dancing in his eyes, as Isabelle stood across from him, her hands folded on her hips.

"Are you done gloating, Alec? Can we go swimming now? Or do we need to wait until you come out of the water to go in because your ego is so big?" Isabelle deadpanned, coercing Jace to throw his head back, a deep chuckle resonating through himself and Clary, and Magnus to snort rather loudly.

"Are _you_ done Izzy?" Jace arched a fair brow at her.

"Screw off, Herondale. You might be dating my best friend, but that does not mean I'll bake you cookies and crap like that. As far as I'm concerned, you can still burn in Hell."

"Damn," Jonathan whistled, while Sebastian merely gaped at Isabelle who proceeded to flip her silky locks over her shoulder and turn away from Alec and Jace.

Clary shed her black-and-red flannel and caught up with Izzy, who was already half way down the beach. She only wished Simon hadn't had to go back to New York already. If only all of her friends—and her boyfriend—were the same age as her, life would be much easier.

But they weren't, and she would deal with it.

Magnus, Sebastian, Jace and Jonathan soon joined the girls at the shore. Clary absently wondered what Alec was doing when she heard the click of her camera and saw the soft shadow cast by the bright flash.

Isabelle turned to Clary, a small, barely-there smirk lifting one side of her face. And without warning or hesitation, Isabelle tugged Clary into the water. Clary, in turn, rather violently managed to pull both Jon and Sebastian in the water, as well.

Magnus joined in of his own accord, bringing a reluctant Alec with him.

Jace, however, seemed to need a little...persuasion.

Clary drifted over to Isabelle, who was floating starfish-style on her back, her hair spilled out around her head like an explosion of ink. She beckoned Isabelle to stand up. She did. Clary whispered her plan into Isabelle's ear.

" _This_ is why we're friends," Isabelle grinned at Clary, letting her arm fall across the redhead girl's small shoulders. "This is _so_ why were friends."

"Not because you _like_ me at all?" Clary gave Isabelle a look.

"No, that's just stupid. Friends who scheme together die together."

"Funny. I always thought it was friends that hide bodies together die together."

"No, I think I'm right," Isabelle nodded her head.

"Um, s'cuse me, _I'm_ right," Clary argued.

"Nope." It was at this point, that Clary gave up arguing, because she knew her and Isabelle could be at it all night, they could say they themselves were right until they were each oxygen-deprived and blue in the face.

But it hardly mattered anymore, because it was time to set Clary's plan into action.

* * *

Clary launched herself onto Sebastian's back. He didn't seem to mind save for the exclamation of startle—or shock. Clary wasn't sure which it was. He relaxed after a moment and helped Clary hoist herself onto his shoulders. Her action was quickly followed by Isabelle jumping onto Jonathan—and her brother did not seemed to mind. Not one bit.

Sebastian moved, closer to Jonathan and Izzy, who both wore these near-identical diabolical grins that Clary had a bad feeling about. So she returned the grin the best she could and grabbed Isabelle's hands in her own.

So began the chicken fight.

Clary pushed against Isabelle just as Jon attempted to kick Sebastian's legs out from underneath him with what Clary could tell would have been a perfect sweeping kick if not for the water slowing her brother's movements. Sebastian staggered, though Clary refused to ease her grip on Isabelle's hands.

"Christ," Isabelle ground out, her teeth clenched together tightly enough to cause pain.

Clary laughed, shoving against Isabelle's hands, coercing her to wobble on Jon's shoulders. Jonathan's hands snapped instantly to Izzy's ankles, holding them down to his chest, hoping to prevent her fall. Sebastian used his free hand, one remaining on Clary's thin ankle, to shove at Jonathan's own shoulder. His knees buckled slightly—though that slight buckle was enough to send both Izzy and Jon toppling over into the water.

Sebastian let out a howl of victory just as Clary dared a glance at Jace. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his jaw was clenched tightly, the breeze tousling his golden locks ever so lightly. And if Clary squinted just a little bit, she could see the faint pink colour high on his cheekbones. This made her smile victoriously. From the water below, Isabelle smirked up at her but said nothing more as she bobbed softly up and down in the waves.

And then, just to seal the deal, Clary swooped low and pressed chaste kiss to Sebastian's cheek—of course, though, Jace didn't know that. The redhead looked up, her eyes alight with mischief—a feeling hardly foreign coursing through her veins—and smiled at Jace. He narrowed his molten eyes at her, trudging out into the water.

Clary stayed sitting on Sebastian's shoulders, resting her hands on the top of his head, the soft black strands hot from the setting summer sun.

"Clary," Jace ground out.

"Jace," she mocked, ever so amused by his—dare she say it?—jealous display.

The petite girl stayed seated atop Sebastian's broad shoulders until he let her off on the dock, where she was promptly shoved off by Magnus as soon as she was standing, who grinned as wide as the Cheshire cat and laughed like a hyena.

And when Clary broke the rippling surface of the water, sopping strands of hair pasted to her face, and falling in her eyes, arms corded with muscle caged her to a lean chest. "Are you done teasing me?" His breath fanned across her face, smelling distinctly like cream cheese icing.

"That depends," Clary looked up at him through her copper lashes, stuck together by water, small droplets of the liquid glittering in the sun against her pallid skin. "Are you done pouting, or brooding...or whatever it was that you were doing?"

"I suppose." Jace brought his mouth close to hers, so close she could hardly concentrate.

And when Jace was less than a millimetre from her lips, she turned her head to the side, his lips landing somewhere near her jaw. Jace pulled away, his lips adjusted to a pout. Clary simply smiled sweetly at him and swam away. The tawny-haired boy knew his girlfriend had the upper hand here, because he could never stay mad at her long, and she seemed to be picking up on this trait—more like curse—as she had once upon a time.

* * *

Water dripped down her back and left a big wet splotch on her shirt. But somehow, miraculously, Isabelle's dripping hair left only a wet dots on her shirt. However, the true miracle was the fact that Clary's makeup hadn't dripped off of her face as though she was made of wax and the sun was melting her.

"Who's hungry?" Magnus propositioned, holding up a jumbo bag of marshmallows in one hand and a bag of chocolate in the other, a package of graham crackers sitting untouched at his feet.

"Are you kidding me?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "Give me the damn chocolate." She grabbed for the bag of chocolate before Magnus quickly and easily pulled it away, leaving Isabelle laying across her brother's lap. She huffed her annoyance, sitting up and adjusting the bottom hem of her crop top.

Clary couldn't have been bothered to do anything but dry off, throw back on her flannel and twist her drying hair up into a sloppy bun. Jace did not seem to mind, as he had his arm wrapped around her waist, his calloused pianist fingers running up and down her exposed flesh. Clary shivered at the action.

"Smile!" Alec grinned, his face partially hidden behind the camera. Clary and Jace both did, going relatively blind for a moment after the flash went off.

"Oh, my turn!" Magnus tossed the bags of marshmallows and chocolate at his boyfriend, scurrying over across the blankets, around the fire, nudging Jace none too gently out of the way. He slung his arm around Clary's narrow shoulders.

"Wait," Isabelle allowed Clary's own arm to hang off the edge of her shoulder, Izzy's own head leaning against Clary's shoulder. "Okay go."

The flash left Clary slightly dazed, though mostly stunned. Magnus rubbed his glitter-covered eyes and Izzy let out a long, faintly high-pitched yawn. Clary leaned into both of her friends, her eyes resting upon Jace, who was smiling down at the photograph in his hand. Clary plucked it from his fingers. She couldn't help the wide smile that stretched across her lips when she saw the photo of herself and Jace; it was...amazing.

She met Jace's aureate eyes again, only to have him wink at her. She rolled her emerald eyes.

" _Look_ at this Clary! We look _hot_ ," Isabelle dragged out the last syllable of the word, leaning her shoulder against Clary's. She looked down at the photograph, and wondered how it could possibly be _her_ in that picture. It appeared like something she would see on Tumblr—not something that was real. Not something that she was a part of.

But she was.

Clary gazed around the fire, at Sebastian who was chatting animatedly to Jon who was always good at keeping conversation, and then she looked at Magnus and Alec, who were leaning close together, their hands linked together, and then she looked to Isabelle, digging her hand into the bag of chocolate and shovelling it into her mouth. Lastly, she looked to Jace, who was staring back at her with something akin to awe, something quite unfamiliar to the redhead sparkling in his tawny eyes. And not for the first time that day, she wondered how it was possible that she had gotten so lucky.

* * *

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of updates, but I've been busy with other stories, and I've also been working-slowly, but surely-on this massive chapter. It's over 8000 words. So yeah.**

 **I've been turning the idea over in my head, and...I'd like to write a sequel, depending on where the epilogue leaves us. Maybe, maybe not. I'll need ideas/inspiration from you all.**

 **And when I say ideas/inspiration, I mean ideas that will inspire me to write the sequel.**

 **The Author's Note at the beginning was really long winded, I get it.**

 **This is officially the last chapter. You can expect the epilogue to come either during the weekend or the coming week!**


	23. Epilogue

**Here it is, the epilogue to my first story. Wow.**

 **This is the Prom playlist:**

 _Somebody Told Me_ by _The Killers_

 _Hey Mama_ by _David Guetta_

 _Summertime Sadness_ (remix) by _Lana Del Rey_

 _Moon_ by _The Cab_

 _Just Dance_ by _Lady Gaga_

 _Dessert_ by _Dawin_

 _Irresistible_ by _Fall Out Boy (feat Demi Lovato)_

 _Clothes Off_ by _Ria Mae_

 _S &M_ by _Rihanna_

 _Only Girl (In The World)_ by _Rihanna_

 _Gimme More_ by _Britney Spears_

 _Butterfly_ by _Crazy Town_

 _If U Seek Amy_ by _Britney Spears_

 _Uma Thurman_ by _Fall Out Boy_

 _Get Ugly_ by _Jason Derulo_

 _Freaks_ by _Timmy Trumpet_

 _Let It Rock_ by _Kevin Rudolf_

 _Victorious_ by _Panic! At The Disco_

 _GDFR_ by _Flo Rida (feat Sage The Gemini)_

 _Low_ by _Flo Rida (feat T-Pain)_

 _Talk Dirty_ by _Jason Derulo (feat 2 Chainz)_

 **Huge thanks to my beta, HeronFrayWood, who, as you guys probably already know, is awesome.**

 **Thanks so much for all the support guys.**

* * *

New York felt so distant than what she remembered. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't like being back home, it was just that it was so different from where she had spent the last two months, give or take. It was the place where she had fallen in love, but at the same time, it wasn't.

But it would most definitely be the place where her heart would shatter and be walked upon by the thousands of feet in New York. And it didn't seem to matter whether those feet were heeled or bare, cautious or careless, for she would still have her heart reduced to broken, jagged shards either way.

He hadn't even loaded his car down with boxes upon boxes and her chest already ached with a preview of the pain that awaited her after their separation. God, she felt like one of those cliché, melodramatic girls in romance movies—fake sobs and all.

Why could she not be a genius like Jon? That way, she would be heading off to college for the coming school year, as well, and maybe, just maybe, she would be distracted enough to forget about Jace.

Then again, senior year was really going to kick her ass.

And her dearest friend Isabelle did not hesitate to remind her that college applications were due in the fall; exactly what she needed.

She only had Isabelle left. And it broke her heart. Not that there was anything wrong with just having Izzy, but she was so close with Magnus and Simon and Jace, and even Alec, whom she hadn't really spent a great deal of time with. But they were all her friends and it sucked more than anything to see them going off to college while her and Isabelle were stuck finishing up high school.

Clary wasn't quite sure how she was going to hold back the waterworks display that wanted to so desperately escape her when they all went their separate ways.

* * *

"What're we doing? You have to get up early and—"

"I don't care." Jace nuzzled his face into Clary's neck.

"Jace," it came out as a whine.

"Yes?"

Clary turned to face him, one hand resting on his chest. "Why did you ask me to come over, only to lie in bed?"

The blonde sighed. "Clary, I love you, and you know I'm leaving tomorrow for school. Can't I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake up the same way?"

"I guess," Clary sighed melodramatically, unable to help the smile that spread across her lips. Clary registered somewhere in the back of her mind the fact that both Magnus and Alec were also leaving tomorrow morning for college, but she ignored it.

The more she allowed her resolve to slip, and allowed herself to fall into Jace's arms, the more she did not care—did not want to care. Because he smelled like lemon and laundry soap and sunshine, she just absolutely could not force herself to care. Nor did she care that what they had together would be so brutally ripped away from them in the span of a year. The redhead knew all too well that things could change in a year—looking back on their summer vacation to Virginia, which, mind you, had been only two months long, a whole lot of things had changed.

But still, she laid her head back down on Jace's chest, sighing in content and allowing the darkness to wash over her like a wave crashing down on the shore.

Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe they would all be okay, in the long run.

Or maybe not.

* * *

Clary sighed, frustrated, staring at the clock. The hands ticked and ticked and ticked around in the same circle over and over again—and yet, she was no closer to being free than she had been last year.

And like some weird voodoo Déjà vu, a piece of abused, balled up paper landed on her desk. Isabelle's head snapped forward as though she'd never turned it in the first place. Clary smirked a little, unfolding the paper as noisily as she pleased. It was the last day of her senior year—what were they going to do? Prevent her from graduating tomorrow when she'd already earned all her credits and had a fitting for the cap and gown? The redhead highly doubted it.

On the whole piece of paper, was only one word, followed by a question mark.

 _Excited?_

Just like someone had flipped on a switch, Clary couldn't help the beaming smile that spread across her face and stayed there as she stared down at the paper.

She was finally free, to pursue whatever career path she chose (art, obviously), without the state saying she had to take certain classes if she desired to graduate. No more AP Biology, no more AP math classes, no more boys gawking not-so-discreetly as she walked down the hallway to her next class.

It would be quite the understatement—according to Isabelle, who had at some point during the year deemed herself all knowing—to say she looked different than she had during eleventh grade.

Even if she was not extremely gifted in the chest department, like a certain inky-haired girl who sat diagonally from her, it had gotten to the point where she could no longer wear but a simple sports bra every day. It would be a lie if Clary said that she hadn't panicked when one day she went to put on her jeans and they felt tighter than they usually did. But it was all right. Because she had a shape now and clothes fit her differently than they had the year before. She still wasn't quite used to it, even if she'd had the whole school year to adjust to her new figure.

Most importantly, though, was that she no longer looked like she belonged back in middle school. Because with her father's now-noticeable sharp bone structure, softened marginally by her mother's influence, and her wide, mesmerizing eyes, she looked like someone who belonged next to Isabelle, not sitting with a pack of crayons and safety scissors in pre-school.

The bell finally, mercifully, rang. Clary grinned, grabbing up her bag in one easy swoop low. She slung the strap over her shoulder, relishing in the cool air splaying across her bare arms as she walked down the rapidly crowding hall—it had been unrealistically hot in her class.

Isabelle strolled up beside her. "We don't need to stop at your locker, do we? Please say—"

"No," Clary cut off her friend, smiling faintly.

The midnight-eyed girl made a sound of relief, pretending to wipe sweat from her forehead. "Thank God. But moving on, you look _hot_. Capital H hot." Clary turned her face away from Isabelle, adjusting the strap of her backpack with one hand and fishing her phone from the side pocket of the aforementioned bag with the other.

"Yeah, well," Clary shrugged. "I had a good mentor, who, now that I think about it, drilled my current knowledge of fashion into my brain relentlessly." Clary cocked her head to the side, a sort of accusing smile on her face. Isabelle only threw her head back, in that typical Isabelle way, and laughed.

"Bye Clary, bye Isabelle!" Waved Aline Penhallow, a sweet Asian girl they had befriended half way through the first semester. Her face was all sharp angles and planes, with short, pin-straight hair (the same kind of pin-straight Izzy's hair used to be) that suited her perfectly. Clary itched for a pad of paper and a pencil, if only to capture the image of Aline smiling brightly and her deep brown eyes sparkling. This, besides graduation, would most likely be one of the last times she saw Aline.

In a way, graduating sucked, Clary realized.

"Bye, Aline," Clary waved back, fighting to keep the smile on her face as she walked by, Izzy still at her side, talking animatedly to anyone who waved or shouted anything to her.

Izzy nudged her shoulder. "What's wrong? Are you going to miss this hell hole?" Her tone was teasing, but Clary knew her friend was going to miss it, too.

"Do you realize," Clary started, "that this is the place where we've made so many memories? That this is where I met Simon, and got closer to you, that this—" She faltered.

"That this is what?" Isabelle prompted.

Clary shook her head, curls bouncing with the motion. "Nothing, it's just that this is the place where I spent so much time hating him." She picked at her paint-cloaked cuticles, avoiding Isabelle's gaze.

"Clare, you can't blame yourself for that, you didn't know—you didn't remember."

"But I should have known—all those head pains when he did something familiar, all the things he seemed to know about me, all the times everyone was uneasy around each other...I should have known Iz, and I just—"

"Shut up, would you? You remember now, and honestly, I see it as a good thing that you forgot, sometimes. You kind of just got to skip over the awkward phase of "are we dating yet" and frankly, Jace got lucky because you would have been a thousand times more pissed at him for what he did, had you not forgotten."

Clary shrugged again. "I guess you're right, but I don't know—we broke up before he left Izzy. He's probably got another girlfriend by now and—"

"Maybe he's got a boyfriend," Isabelle interjected, raising her neatly trimmed brows suggestively.

Clary glowered at her friend. "—and by now he's probably got another girlfriend, one way prettier and hotter, and cooler, and nicer, and funnier, and more charming than me. So, in conclusion, it doesn't matter, because I'm me, and he's him."

Isabelle shook her head, somewhat impatiently. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard all day, and I had to sit with Sebastian Verlac in Biology all semester."

"Yeah, well..." Clary trailed off as they exited the school. She turned and looked up at the building that had seemed to be the focal point of her universe for four years. She was eighteen, she was an adult, she was leaving her high school days behind her and yet—she was going to miss it, for some reason.

* * *

"Honey, come here—" Jocelyn spoke through a mouthful of Cheerios, which she'd abandoned as soon as Clary had exited her bedroom, clad in a white sequined tulle flouncing dress, her darkening red hair curled with much more care than she usually took.

"Mom, what are you—?" Clary stopped herself, looking down as her mother adjusted her hair and looked up through flickering copper lashes.

"You look so gorgeous, so much—so much...like me." Jocelyn gushed, clasping her hands over her mouth. "You're all grown up—you and Jon."

Clary heard Jon's bedroom door shut behind her—she had never let her mother clean out the room, even when she had thought her twin was dead—and whirled around, her dress spinning around her legs. Typically, she never wore dresses, and she had to admit, it felt lovely.

Jon walked over, his bright white hair contrasting elegantly against the black material of his suit. He grinned widely at his sister, picking her up by the midriff, swinging her around. "You look beautiful," he told her, letting her down and holding her tightly to his chest.

"And you look dashing," Clary laughed, adjusting the position of his tie. The bright flash of a camera nearly blinded Clary.

"Got it," Jocelyn grinned, tucking the camera into her purse, motioning for her children to join her at the door.

 _This is it_ , Clary thought, _I'm graduating_.

* * *

The cap made her itchy, and the gown felt weird with her dress underneath of it. She cursed very, very, loudly. Three heads, including Isabelle's, turned to look at her. Though only two of those three laughed.

"Jace would be proud," Isabelle noted, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly.

Clary nodded in acknowledgment of her friend's comment, though she turned her head away so Isabelle couldn't see her expression. Jace and she may have broken up nearly a year ago, but it still hurt like a fresh wound. Her chest ached at his name, sometimes, though she would never tell anyone that.

Not even Isabelle.

"Aline," Clary cleared her throat, stepping away from the dark-haired beauty, even if it was just for a moment. She needed breathing space, and all the memories that resided in Isabelle's obsidian eyes only prevailed to strangle the oxygen in the room.

Aline gave a friendly smile. "You look really pretty, Clary," the short-haired girl admired Clary's hair and makeup, her dress hidden from view underneath of the dark blue gown.

"Me?" Clary's eyes widened considerably. "You look gorgeous, Aline!" The other girl blushed, turning her other cheek to the redhead for a moment.

Clary and Aline talked and talked, about whatever suited them at that moment, Isabelle joining the conversation soon after. And thankfully, there was not one more mention of Clary's tawny-eyed ex.

* * *

The ceremony was over much faster than Clary had imagined it might be. And by the time even the teachers and parents who took way too many pictures of their children in too many different poses had abandoned the stage set out in the centre of the football field, night had fallen. Bright stars pierced the veil of darkness, light pollution dulling their glow. What had it been like, before all of this?Clary wondered, staring up at the sky from a gym window.

She looked over her shoulder, smiling ridiculously wide at the sight of her friends, dancing stupidly. Not only Jon, but Simon, Magnus, and Alec had returned from college to witness her and Isabelle graduating. According to Simon, it was a "monumental event that simply could not be missed—or avoided—and I need to come home or the world will explode." And according to Magnus, it was a "perfect chance to get all glittered up for a special someone," and then he had proceeded to waggle his blue eyebrows suggestively at her over Skype, to which she had simply rolled her eyes. And then there was Alec who was somewhat a normal human being, and had said it was his "moral obligation" to come watch his little sister and close friend graduate.

"Biscuit," Magnus danced over to her smoothly, rotating his hips and doing jazz hands all at once. Clary thought it looked impeccably stupid, though it was flawlessly performed. "Come. Dance," he beckoned, rolling his yellow-green eyes when she shook her head, and grabbing her hand with one of his own and spinning her. She giggled musically, the skirt of her dress whirling around her in a white blur of tulle and sequins.

The redhead was beyond surprised that she hadn't fallen to her death in her heels yet. More than that, she was surprised she had yet to see her brother since he disappeared into the titanic swell of the crowd earlier in the night.

"That's it, Clare!" Simon laughed, clapping his hands a few times as he watched her twirl.

Isabelle cupped her hands around her mouth, tilting her head back as she cheered loudly for her best friend. It was as the last notes of Isabelle's loud cheer rang out and Clary spun into a pair of finely muscled arms that a new song began to blast through the speakers that had been set up for their prom.

Clary looked up in surprise, very ready to stomp on some guy's foot, when she stopped dead.

"Jace?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. She wasn't sure whether to kiss him or shove him away.

He grinned down at her, his chipped incisor still endearingly out of place yet perfect. His skin was just as tanned as she remembered his hair more sun bleached than she remembered. "Hey," he whispered back, his breath dancing across her skin—he smelled like laundry soap and a delicious cologne so unlike the Axe body spray that seemed to pollute the air after every gym period she had, and sunshine. Most off all, though, he smelled like _Jace_. Her Jace.

"Oh! Oh! Clary! _Oh my God_! _Oh. My. God_!" Isabelle tugged her out from the circle of Jace's arms, all but jumping up and down in her strappy royal blue heels. And that was when Clary recognized the song playing: _Low_ by _Flo Rida_.

Magnus's eyes lit up in excitement, Clary grabbing his hand and allowing him to twirl her once more. Alec danced with his sister, who was shimmying up and down, her dress never once making her movements awkward or uncomfortable-looking. The lights strung up around the gym twinkled in the corner of Clary's eyes, other kids dancing and shouting and singing along loudly to the song.

Clary turned to Isabelle, Magnus by her side, and Simon by Izzy's. All four of them started singing along loudly, and quite shamelessly, to the song, Alec joining in after a beat of hesitation.

 _"Next thing you know_

 _Shawty got low low low low low low low low_

 _Them baggy sweat pants and the Reebok's with the straps (the straps)_

 _She turned around and gave that big booty a smack (a smack)_

 _She hit the floor_

 _Next thing you know_

 _Shawty got low low low low low low low low"_

Jace stood off to the side, his aureate gaze burning a hole into the side of his ex girlfriend's head. He watched her dance, watched her laugh and have a good time with her friends. Why did I ever give her up? Jace wondered as their collective voices filled the empty space around them as they sang the next verse.

 _"I ain't never seen nuthin' that'll make me go, this crazy, all night spendin' my dough_

Simon and Clary began fist pumping, Magnus, Izzy and Clary rapping the verse like pros.

 _Had a million dollar vibe and a bottle to go_

 _Dem birthday cakes, they stole the show_

 _So sexual, she was flexible_

Alec dipped his little sister, and she laughed loudly, showing off a blindingly white smile in the process. Jace shook his head, pushing off of the wall where he had been attempting to hide in the shadows—which clearly wasn't working as a disguise, as the golden-haired man had acquired quite the fan club of formally dressed girls with fake eyelashes. Rolling his shoulders within the white tux he wore, he pushed off of the wall, heading directly for the gorgeous redhead dancing and rapping like it was nobody's business.

 _Professional, drinkin' X and O_

 _Hold up wait a minute, do I see what I think I whoa_

 _Did I think I seen shawty get low_

Jace's long-legged strides brought him to stand in front of Clary. She looked surprised and shocked for a second before she frowned and tried to move past him. His long, scarred and calloused fingers—from hours of football practice, she presumed—wrapped around her shoulders and he pulled her to him, pressing their bodies close.

But he kept his mouth a few millimeters from hers, as if he were...scared.

Finally, Clary rolled her eyes, pulling him to her from the bunch of his tux she'd grasped with either hand. "Are you going to kiss me or not, jackass?"

With that, she pulled him to her, kissing him with all the pain and hurt and love she had harbored for him the past year.

 _Ain't the same when it's up that close_

Make it rain, I'm makin' it snow

"Get a room!" Isabelle shouted over the music, her hands once again cupped around her mouth.

 _Work the pole, I got the bank roll_

 _I'ma say that I prefer them no clothes_

 _I'm into that, I love women exposed_

 _She threw it back at me, I gave her more_

 _Cash ain't a problem, I know where it goes_

Jace pulled away from Clary, grinning ear-to-ear. "I bet you missed me," he whispered against her ear, coercing her to shiver in delight. The sensations fizzing in her veins were familiar yet foreign all at once, and she couldn't say she didn't love the feeling if her life depended on it.

She scoffed, looking away briefly, at her friends, all laughing and dancing and having fun. "I bet you missed me more, you ass."

"I won't even deny it."

* * *

Clary pushed away Jace—along with all the thoughts of whether or not they were back together away, before they could tangle her brain into knots and tangles of confusion.

Even Alec, quiet, subdued Alec, joined in on the chaotic dancing. He picked Clary up and spun her around and all she could think, slightly light headed and drunk off of laughter, was that she was getting spun around a lot.

Clary giggled as Alec set her back down on the ground, narrowly avoiding stepping on the hem of her dress. Isabelle swiveled her hips lightly, walking over to stand at the redhead's side. "So, what's up with you and jackass over there?" She motioned her chin in Jace's general direction, grabbing onto both of Clary's hands with her own—and for once, it wasn't just Isabelle who had lacquer-clad nails—swinging their joined hands, swaying in her heels purposefully. The action made her dress—a lilac crystal and chiffon strapless sweetheart gown that suited her impeccably well—swish about her long legs.

With a mere shrug, her voice quiet, so much unlike the happy, bubbly girl she'd been all night long, did Clary say, "I'm not entirely sure myself."

"You sure did kiss him like—"

"I don't know, Izzy, okay?" Clary snapped, her green eyes, so much like her brother's—who had she had still not seen since he disappeared earlier—hardened and narrowed.

Isabelle dropped Clary's hands, holding hers up in surrender. "Calm down, tiger," she teased, her plum-painted lips quirking up into an equally teasing smirk. Clary scowled. "Oh, come on! Don't do that—what's the point of you doing your makeup all pretty only to ruin it by scowling?"

Once again, Clary shrugged her shoulders, feeling the material of her dress rub against her creamy skin. It was moments like these that she recalled just how unlike she was to the girl who had joined her friends and supposed worst enemy in Virginia nearly a whole year ago.

That girl would have never dressed up, nor done her makeup for such a pointless event—as she once thought it to be. But now she understood all the fuss, the need to make the night memorable.

Clary was near certain that she would not soon forget this night.

"That's right, there is no point! Now—," Isabelle led her back to the where their friends danced. "Dance with me, loser."

And she did. The now-high school graduate swung her hips, and twirled, and sang along to all the songs until her throat was near raw, until the gym had gotten slightly less cramped, and until Jace was holding her hips, dancing with her during a slow song. He told her she looked beautiful and gorgeous and all the above until she lost count of how many times he'd said it. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, his breath dancing across her freckle-spattered skin.

"I still love you," he told her finally, and that was all it took for the remainder of her resolve to not let him back in come crumbling down. She fisted her hands in his white jacket, tugging the blonde to her until they were kissing once more.

"This is not some fairy tale, Jace; you don't just get to come swooping in, kiss me, and live happily ever after," Clary said between kisses, her breath coming in something akin to gasps when he began kiss his way up her neck, along her jaw.

"I don't want that. I never wanted that." Jace said, looking down at her, his aureate eyes had darkened a few shades, and the look in them made Clary squirm under his burning gaze.

"Then what do you want?" She looked up at him from under lowered copper lashes, and he couldn't help but stare. Why had he given her up— _how_ had he given her up?

"You," he said simply. And in that moment, Clary thought of spitting those three words at him—I hate you. So familiar-tasting on her tongue, it would be easy. But it wasn't real, what those three words meant. No, not at all. All these years, they had meant exactly what they weren't supposed to: _I love you_.

* * *

 **So that's it guys, I really hope you enjoyed reading I Hate You as much as I enjoyed writing it. :))**


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